The Daughter of the River God
by natida
Summary: Set in Prince Caspian, after Trumpkin leaves Caspian to go search for the Pevensies. The magic has awakened the immortal Daughter of the River God, Sairah. Meanwhile, Miraz is preparing his final blow upon the Old Narnians. Peter/OC. Bookverse.
1. New Awakening

Her eyes glittered darkly as she swam higher, towards the surface. The current was strange, faster, and with more potency than it had had in the last 1300 years. A change was coming; she could feel it. It was powerful enough to awaken her from her sleep, though it had not awakened her sisters or her father. With swift strokes, she began to reach the surface, and a bright ray of light shone through the water. Her eyes felt strange, looking up at the light after so long.

Her long dark hair floated like a cloud around her face, and her pale skin shone in the increasing light from outside. Some fish passed her, not cringing away from her as they would do with any other creature, human or animal. She barely looked at them. Her mind was a swirl of confusion.

_Aslan?_ She thought. _Perhaps it is he who has come._ Her fingers cut through the water softly yet swiftly, while she looked around searchingly. She quickly spotted what she was looking for, lying under the large root of a tree that was protruding from the ground. As she began to emerge, her left hand took it and she climbed out.

She felt considerably heavier now, out of the water. Her hair fell onto her shoulders once more and grouped itself in waves and curls at the back of her head. Her dress that seemed made of dark seaweed was molded perfectly to fit her slim body; sleeveless, and reaching just below the knee. She was barefoot, and in her hand she now held a thin belt of dark green, from which hung a light yet sharp dagger. With one swift movement, she fastened the belt around her waist. On her forehead sat a string of dark green, from which hung three small pearls, falling onto her pale brow. Her eyes were dark and intelligent, yet a strange ancientness hung about her. Her feet left wet tracks behind them as she walked on the white sand, but her skin was dry, though her hair appeared to still be wet while it was not dripping.

_It feels so strange,_ she thought as her toes touched the sand. She walked slowly, like a person asleep, for it was strange to be on hard ground once more. Around her, the trees were silent except for the whispers of the wind. Too silent. 1300 years ago, she would have heard the voices of the animals and at night perhaps even the sound of pipes far into the trees, evidence of the fauns and dryads that danced in the twilight.

She stopped dead in her tracks suddenly. The memories came rushing back to her. Not only of the fall of Cair Paravel, and of the terrible time after, when she and her sisters had had to retreat into the depths of the river and fall into deep sleep, but also of the wonderful times that the Narnians had called the "Golden Age of Narnia" when she had visited Cair Paravel quite often, and spent hours with the High King Peter, Queen Susan, King Edmund and Queen Lucy.

Her heart was filled with anguish at the thought of Peter. It had been centuries since she had last mourned over the fact that they were never coming back, and with time she had learned to hide her pain, but it had never truly left her. Now, with the new awakening, it awoke once more. She clenched her jaw firmly and continued walking.

Presently she realized where she was. In front of her was a great hill, upon which sat another perfectly round green hill with a stone doorway leading into it. She recognized it immediately; Aslan's How. Rather surprisingly, it was exactly in the same state as it had been before the attack of the Telmarines. Presumably they were too afraid of the woods to go close and mar it. She stood in front of it, admiring it, before she noticed something unusual.

Around it were many small figures strangely crowded close to the doorway, and once or twice she saw a figure come out of it. She was even more surprised to find that the figures were not human; in fact, many times they were anything but human.

Narnians.

Fauns, talking animals, dwarves, centaurs…maybe even a giant. Her heart leaped in a way it had not done for many years, and she began to walk towards them. _What is it that has awakened them at last? What has brought them out from their hiding?_

She quickly saw the answer to her question. Close to the foot of the hill upon which Aslan's How sat, and by the edge of the forest, was a great cluster of white tents, where she could see the figures of men walking in between. Obviously, it was the camp of an army. Her mind raced as she considered the possibilities of what had occurred. Probably a battle between the Telmarines and the Narnians, who were reclaiming the land as their own, assuming that they were still in power.

She made her mind up in a second. She would fight alongside them, if that was the case. Swiftly she began to walk towards Aslan's How.

Her thoughts were interrupted suddenly by the distinct sound of hoofs coming from in front of her. Her dark eyes looked up quickly and she saw what seemed to be a centaur running towards her, closely followed by two dwarves. The dwarves bore bows with arrows on the string and the centaur held a sword in his hand. She stopped immediately and merely watched them without any expression in her eyes, as they swiftly ran towards her.

The centaur stopped abruptly in front of her, his sword drawn, and gave her a hard stare. The dwarves, one a black dwarf and another one a red, gazed at her warily, their arrows pointed at her. She merely looked back.

"Who are you?" asked the centaur in his deep voice. His flanks were glossy chestnut and the beard that covered his broad chest was golden-red. His dark brown eyes narrowed suspiciously as they stared at her. She made no move to touch her dagger.

"Sairah, daughter of the River-God," she said. Her voice felt strange, unused.


	2. The drawings on the wall

A/N: Okay, I should have done this for the last chapter, but I'm saying it now: All things, places and people that you recognize are property of C.S. Lewis. Only Sairah is mine.

**I hope that you enjoy my first fic ********. I'm going to have fun writing it all, and thanks to all the wonderful people who reviewed on the first chapter; you guys encouraged me a lot. Please don't stop doing it; it'll keep me going ******

Caspian rubbed his temples with the tips of his fingers worriedly. He was sitting on a log with his elbows on the rough wooden table in front of him. On the other side of it sat Doctor Cornelius, his wide brow slightly furrowed and his arms folded carefully on his lap. Miraz was receiving reinforcements, and every day the Telmarine camp seemed to have grown twice its size. The Old Narnians were loosing hope, and there was considerable unrest, especially among the dwarves. Many talking beasts and the centaurs remained firm, and hopefully pondered over a way to win the battle, but Caspian knew only too well that the hope was unfounded. Their only solution had been the horn, but already many days had passed and neither Trumpkin nor Pattertwig had returned.

"You don't suppose-" began Caspian slowly.

"There would be no reason to assume the worst, Sire." Replied the learned man for the hundredth time.

Caspian uttered a mirthless laugh. "You are right, Doctor. I should not be worrying over these things. There is still hope. However, I _did_ wish that we would have a quick answer. Perhaps I ought to have blown Queen Susan's Horn before, maybe even before Miraz had first attacked." He sighed.

They were in the secret and magical chamber where the Stone Table that was said to have held Aslan when he was killed and awoke again was. The King looked around him uneasily, and took his elbows off the wooden table that was in a corner.

"Let us leave this place," he said, standing up. "There is too much magic in this room." He smiled wryly to himself and Doctor Cornelius followed him out of the stone room, where they nearly crashed into Trufflehunter. The badger seemed rather excited.

"What is it?" asked Caspian, hope rising in his heart as he stepped backwards.

"Well, your Majesty," answered Trufflehunter as he also retreated a bit. "There is a woman, or what appears to be a woman, walking towards us, but not from the Telmarine camp; she comes from our right side, Sire. Glenstorm and two dwarves have already gone to meet her, or challenge her, should she be an enemy."

The King frowned and allowed the badger to lead him through the passage and out into the bright light of the sun that nearly blinded him for a second. He blinked a few times and then looked around. Here and there, talking beasts and fauns were staring, all looking to one side. Doctor Cornelius came to stand beside Caspian as they both watched.

Four figures stood out on the green grass, looking small because of the distance; Glenstorm, two dwarves, and a young woman. Caspian did not recognize her and was mystified.

"Perhaps she is a dryad," he suggested.

"Pardon me, Sire," said a faun that that stood close by who looked considerably older, bowing his head respectfully, "But that is not a dryad. I remember them from long ago, when we used to dance with them. That woman is not a dryad."

As they watched, it seemed to them that the centaur bowed his head with reverence and lowered his sword to his side. Beside him, the dwarves lowered their bows slightly, but did not seem as reassured as Glenstorm. Then all four figures began to come towards Aslan's How. The company that stood on the top of the green hill watched them curiously, and Caspian felt a bit impatient as he looked. _It might be one of the Queens_, he thought, _for why else would Glenstorm show her respect? It might be either Queen Lucy or Queen Susan._

Doctor Cornelius seemed to read his mind. "I do not think it is one of the Queens," he said in a low voice, for Caspian's ears only.

The King nodded, his heart sinking. However, curiosity was stirring within him and he waited impatiently as they climbed the hill. A group of animals went to meet them, sniffing curiously in the direction of the young woman. Many seemed taken aback, and immediately a mouse came running towards Caspian.

"Sire," it said in its small voice, with its whiskers twitching excitedly. "It is a naiad, but different…" it trailed off, at loss for words. Caspian stared at the mouse with surprise, and turned to look at Doctor Cornelius.

"Then," said the learned man after a few moments, "your Majesty should know that the naiads are the daughters of the River-God, but I must say that I do not understand how it is that one has been able to emerge from the water and walk all this way. It is unheard of."

Trufflehunter spoke then, his husky voice also excited. "Nay, it is the _last_ daughter of the River-God. They say she is half human and immortal, also the only one that may walk upon hard land so far from water." Then he added, "Sire, though she is one of your subjects, you must maintain a level of respect to her. The River-God is very powerful and his daughter was one of the best friends of the Kings and Queens of Cair Paravel, or so the tale says."

Caspian barely had time to nod and thank his advisors before Glenstorm trotted towards them, closely followed by the woman. The dwarves retreated into the group of Narnians that were watching.

Glenstorm bowed his powerful head, saying, "Your Majesty, this is Sairah, daughter of the River-God."

Caspian turned to the newcomer and smiled. "Welcome," he said.

She did not smile, but turned her dark eyes to him and spoke. "I thank you. But I must ask, who are you, and what are you doing here?"

The King was surprised. Sairah had an air of ancientness about her; something that made him feel respect and showed him that she could be very dangerous if she wished to, though she meant well. Her voice was strange, soft and yet powerful, with a strange accent to it. She spoke rather slowly, as if she had not talked to anybody in many years. _Of course_, he thought suddenly. _If Trufflehunter is right, then she has lived for more than a thousand years_. The thought impacted him, for here was somebody that must know more than anybody in Narnia. Perhaps the horn had brought her…however, he snapped back into reality, addressing her politely.

"I am Caspian the Tenth, and these are Doctor Cornelius and Trufflehunter," he said, gesturing towards those who stood on either side of him. "We are fighting against Miraz, and this is our encampment, as you can see."

Sairah stared at him for a moment with an inscrutable look. Her pale hands lay unmovable on either side of her body, and she seemed to be thinking quickly. "Who is this…_Miraz_ that you speak of?" she said with a slight frown of confusion on her brow.

The smile on Caspian's lips widened, and he gestured towards the entrance into Aslan's How. "Perhaps you would like to join us, Lady? I see that there is much that we will have to explain, and my friends and I would be pleased to know from where you come from."

She complied, and followed them through the stone passage. Her hand rose to touch the figures carven into stone, and she drew them lightly over them. As he walked behind her, Doctor Cornelius saw her eyes widen slightly and her eyes shine suddenly as she lay them on a certain drawing. He thought that he even saw a small, sad smile alight on her lips, but then it was gone so quickly that he wondered if he had seen it at all. The River-God's daughter walked gracefully, her head high, and the Doctor was under the impression that she knew well the outlay of the place that they were in. He was rather surprised to see that her bare feet left wet footprints on the dry ground of Aslan's How, though it was impossible for them to be doing so, for there was no way that her feet could still be wet after walking so much. He dismissed the thought quickly, though, as they reached the room that they had been before. Caspian was not keen on returning there, but he knew that it was the only place that they could be without being overheard by inquisitive creatures that were as curious as they were, and the King did not wish for his subjects to know much more about the matter before he did, for he was not sure exactly what Sairah would tell him. Nikabrik also seemed to have decided to follow, and Caspian did not tell him otherwise. The black dwarf was eyeing the River-God's daughter with suspicion.

As she stepped into the room, her lips parted and she gave a low gasp. Doctor Cornelius, Nikabrik and Trufflehunter sat down on logs beside the wooden table, the dwarf uncharacteristically silent, and Caspian made his way towards it, pausing only to look as the naiad reached out to touch the Stone table with one slender hand, as she had done with the carvings on the walls of stone.

As she touched it, she closed her eyes, and it seemed to Caspian as if a surge of energy ran through her body, though she did not move at all and stood still. Once more a slight frown came upon her face, and when she opened her eyes those who stood in the room also saw a strange expression of mixed sadness, interest, and maybe even power in her eyes, that turned upon the King with a deep gaze.

"What has happened?" she asked him.

It took some time to explain it all to her. From what she said, they understood that she had fought among the other Narnians centuries ago, when the Telmarines attacked Cair Paravel, and that she had been one of those that had survived and gone into hiding. Her expression was hollow as she spoke of it, and something about her made Caspian feel chills run down his spine. There was pain in Sairah as well as power, though she hid it well. He imagined how terrible it must have felt to lose Narnia to invaders, and have to retire to the depths of the river. Sairah said that after that she and the other naiads, as well as the River-God, had fallen into deep sleep, as the dryads had. She did not know what had awakened her, and she knew that it had not awakened the rest of her family.

"But where you awakened by the Horn?" asked Doctor Cornelius after a moment of silence.

Sairah looked confused. "What horn?"

"The Horn of Queen Susan," stated Caspian simply, as curious as the others.

She drew her breath in sharply, and she stared at him in astonishment. _Impossible_, she thought. _It cannot be…_"You have her horn?"

"Yes," said Doctor Cornelius, finding it quickly and raising it so that she may see it. "The Horn of the Queen Susan, of the Golden Age."

With tentative hands, she reached forward. Doctor Cornelius glanced at Caspian, who nodded in affirmation, and he handed the ancient artifact to Sairah, who held it in her hands, staring at it in silence. Again, it seemed that she smiled a very small and fleeting smile, but once more it was gone, and she gave it back slowly.

"I did not know that it had been saved, especially after the siege in Cair Paravel," she said in a low voice. "You have already blown it, then?"

They nodded, and she sighed. "That did not awaken me. Susan's Horn called for help, and I do not believe that it would awaken me. When did you blow it?"

"Some days ago," replied Caspian, "in the morning."

"Then it most certainly did not awaken me. I awoke less than an hour ago. The sort of help that is probable to come to you would be Aslan, I believe."

"Or as the Four Kings and Queens," added Caspian.

Sairah looked at him strangely, but did not say anything. For a third time a slight frown appeared on her face.

"You believe in the Horn, then?" It was Nikabrik, who spoke coldly, as usual.

The naiad turned her gaze onto him serenely. "Yes," she said in a quiet voice, "I do."

"We have sent a dwarf and a talking squirrel to two places that we think the help is most likely to come to," said Caspian. "To Cair Paravel and Lantern waste."

She nodded, and then turned her eyes back onto the young King, and said, "Then, you are the nephew of a Telmarine King named Miraz, who wished to kill you because he found you a threat as the _rightful_ heir to the throne now that he had a son. You, Caspian, are willing to be King to the…_Old Narnians_, as it seems that we call ourselves now, and for that reason we are in battle against the Telmarines?"

"Yes, that is true."

"Very well," she said. "I will fight with you. No doubt that is why I have been awakened. I truly hope that help will arrive quickly…Aslan will not forsake us."

* * * * * * * *

The day passed quickly; Miraz made no move to attack him, as he had not done in the last days, for, as Glenstorm had pointed out, he seemed to be merely receiving reinforcements until he might be strong enough to defeat the Narnians with one blow. Meanwhile, Caspian set watchmen around the hill, hoping to catch a glimpse of either Pattertwig or Trumpkin arriving with help, but nothing was seen except for a small group of Telmarines arriving to the other camp.

It was already night by the time Caspian managed to untangle himself from his duties as King; squabbles among his subjects, planning for the next attack on the Telmarines, and hoping fervently for help. Doctor Cornelius went to speak to a faun called Lomien with whom he had made fast friends and Trufflehunter and Nikabrik had gone to those of their kind to rest for the night. The King, however, had a curiosity that he could not suppress and after considering what he should do for some time he went to seek out the River-God's daughter.

He found her walking in the main passage of Aslan's How, lighted by the torches fixed to the walls. It was empty, for it was late and everybody else was either sleeping or merely resting either outside under the trees that grew around the ancient place or in the stone rooms deeper into it. Therefore, the only creatures awake and lively were the guards, who were posted out the entrance to Aslan's How.

Sairah was watching the carven images with a strange expression on her face. Caspian felt rather awkward, as if he had interrupted her, but she said nothing as she looked up, held his gaze for a few seconds and then turned again to look at the carvings on the walls. The young King walked up to her, and saw her looking at the ancient drawings of the Four Kings and Queens as they sat on their thrones, each looking quite beautiful and graceful: Peter, Edmund, Susan and Lucy. Sairah stood still contemplating in silence. She did not look at Caspian again. He bit his lip and then spoke in a low voice that still felt loud in the silence, but his curiosity was too great to suppress his question.

"Forgive me," he said, "but…did you know them?"

She did not move her gaze from the carvings on the wall, and remained silent for a moment before replying in a low voice.

"Yes." Her voice was soft, almost sad.

"You…you knew them well?"

"Yes. Very well," she said, and added, "I do not think they will come."

"Why is that, Lady?"

"They are dead."

Caspian was surprised at her answer, and he felt his heart sink horribly, but he spoke in a steady voice. "Why do you say that?"

"I was there; I was one of those who waited." Her voice was almost a whisper, and Caspian could sense the pain behind it. He stood still as she spoke with her eyes on the paintings, her eyes expressionless and her face painfully blank.

"I said farewell to them, on the last day we saw them. It was a bright morning…Lucy was teasing the others, saying that she would catch up with the Stag first…Peter…" her eyes closed suddenly, as if she was shutting out everything that was around her, blocking him from her feelings. "Peter said that he wished to speak to me when he returned…everything was perfect, and the fauns planned a feast for when they returned. I was going to be there. I went back to the river, to my people, and remained there for the rest of the day. We were expecting them by nightfall, and so I returned to Cair Paravel by that evening, where the others were waiting; Tumnus, the Beavers, Peridan, and many more friends of the Kings and Queens, as well as the members of the court. We waited gladly.

"But they did not come that night. We decided that perhaps they had decided to continue through the night, or had gone too far and had decided to stay there for the night, before returning. So we waited. And yet they did not return the next day…" Her eyelids opened suddenly, and she finally turned her gaze to Caspian. Again, he was chilled by her expression. There was something different in it…a mixture of horror, despair and pain in it as she recalled the memory. No tears fell down her face, but the feeling seemed to be beyond weeping. "Nor did they come the next day. And when we sent a search party all they found were their belongings and their horses…You do not know what it feels like," she said suddenly to the King. "To wait there and know, in the depth of your heart, that they will not return…I have given up hope. I hoped for it for centuries, and they did not come. People say that they have gone back to their world, and perhaps they did, but I believe that they have died there. One thousand years and some more have passed since they have last been here, and though I have not died, all the others have, and they are not immortal…" She turned her gaze away from him.

Caspian was speechless. He did not know what to say. It seemed that hours passed before he finally spoke. "I…forgive me for my boldness in asking, Lady…it was…" he trailed off, not knowing what to say.

Sairah turned and looked at him again. "Nay," she said in the same low voice, but the pain receded in it. "You are our new King. You must know of these things. That was the end of the Golden Age of Narnia, and it is your duty to try and make things right once more. I merely do not think that the Four Kings and Queens will come."

"Aslan, then?" he could not help asking.

The faintest of smiles seemed to touch her lips, and she nodded slowly. "Yes. Good night, King Caspian." Inclining her head slightly in respect, she began to walk away, towards the opening that led out of Aslan's How.

"Where are you going?" he called after her.

"To the river," she said, turning to look at him, as if he was asking what was obvious. "I cannot be parted from it for too long. I will return at dawn."


	3. Memories

** A/N:** Sorry! So, so, so sorry it took me so long to post another chapter! I kind of had a bad case of writer's block...again. Don't kill me.

**Disclaimer:** Everything belongs to C.S. Lewis... except Sairah, and I hope he forgives me for adding her to the story :D

* * *

It was dawn.

His bare feet sank into the pale yellow sand, cooling his skin as he walked on the beach. The waves roared in the distance, and he watched the tide go up and down as he went, the water leaving small but beautiful things behind, half-covered by the sand.

He had always loved the sea. Even in his old world, he remembered faintly. It was beautiful and wild, and he could see it stretching out endlessly…made of so many colors, so much movement.

Sometimes he wished he could be as brave as the sea.

To come and go without fear, to not hesitate in important decisions, to always know everything. To be able to take the chance, and be sure of the outcome. Things that the High King of Narnia _needed_ to have, that could have an amazing effect on the world.

And now, life offered him a chance to make it all perfect. It offered him a wish in the shape of a Stag. The Stag that could give him and his siblings what they needed to rule successfully, if only they could catch it. But he was not worrying about catching it; he was wondering what they would wish for if they _did_ catch it.

And in truth, though he had assured Tumnus and Peridan that he was sure of what he would ask, he truly had absolutely no idea.

Sitting on a rock, he placed his elbows on his knees and held his head in his hands, feeling like a young boy once more. For the first time he wished he could be exactly that; a child, free from all responsibilities, worrying only about getting home for supper on time and what he would play that day.

He grinned at himself as the sun made the sea turn golden-red. Reaching down, he took a branch between his fingers and began to trace lines on the wet sand, not really thinking about anything at all anymore, and watching a tiny crab walk past in a huff.

He did not hear her when she arrived, but presently he looked up and saw her stepping out of the sea as the tide went down once more. Her dress clung to her slim body and her wet hair fell to her waist, seeming even darker because of the water. He stared at her in surprise as she walked towards him, leaving a trail of footprints behind her on the wet sand.

For a moment he considered getting up, but she was at his side before he could decide anything, and bowed her head. He was the High King, after all. He smiled at her and she did likewise, sitting down on another rock beside him and looking at the lines he had traced on the sand.

"What is it?" she asked him, seeming rather puzzled. He chuckled.

"Nothing. I wasn't really concentrating on drawing anything."

"Good. I did not think you were so bad an artist." He chuckled slightly, but suddenly fell silent again, frowning.

Outside Cair Paravel, she was more a friend than a subject…and in truth she was hardly a subject, since her father was more of an ally than a servant. Since the very beginning they had shared a deep connection, and he could tell that she instantly knew that something was bothering him.

"What is it?" she said again, but this time her tone made it clear to him that she was no longer referring to the marks on the sand.

"Nothing." He answered again.

She frowned, and he looked down. What could he say to her? Instead, he changed the subject.

"What were you doing at sea?"

She smiled softly again. "I visited my cousins. Salt water is not very comfortable, but the sea is bigger than the river, and it is nice to see the rest of my family once in a while."

"I am glad. How are they?"

"They are well, as usual, unlike you, apparently." He saw her raise an eyebrow and suppressed a groan; she had seen through his plan.

"It's just…I don't know what to ask the Stag. _If_ we catch it."

"You will. It may be fast, but you are faster," she told him confidently, "and as for what you ought to ask, think of what Narnia needs most."

"And what is that?" he asked her.

Her pale shoulders rose and fell gracefully, and he looked away. She came closer and laid a hand on his shoulder.

"Tell me. It is not the only thing bothering you, is it?" Her voice was soft, and he felt the warmth of her hand through the cloth of his shirt. But he did not answer for some time. Finally, he spoke.

"Am I a good king?"

Her eyes widened with the realization that that was what had been worrying him. She crept closer, and with tenderness she reached out towards him. Her hand touched his cheek, gently turning his face so that he was looking at her. Dark eyes stared at him gravely.

"Yes. You are a good king. In fact, you are the best king Narnia has had since the very beginning. The effort you put into making it a better place, into making everybody happy, has astounded us all. We have all noticed your bravery, your skill. In you in particular, although your brother and sisters are wonderful also." She spoke earnestly, her voice ringing with intensity. "You are a good king. Never doubt that."

There was something about the way that she said it that filled his heart with newfound confidence. Not only did his heart feel cleansed of all the worry, but also he could feel the skin on his cheek tingling with her touch. His heart swelled with emotion.

And at that moment, he knew what he would ask the Stag.

* * * * * *

Peter awoke with a start, sitting up suddenly. His eyes widened at the sight of the trees all around them, and the grass under him. Utterly confused, he frowned, and noticed the sleeping figures lying on the ground close by, around the dying embers of a small fire. He recognized Edmund, Susan and Lucy. He also saw Trumpkin, who was snoring softly in his sleep.

_Trumpkin!_ Of course. The memories came flooding back to him: he was in Narnia again, and according to this world, he had come back ages later. Now, they were going to meet Caspian the Tenth, who was helping the 'Old Narnians' reclaim their country.

As Peter sat, legs crossed under him, staring at the fire, thoughts that he had kept hidden at the back of his mind came out, reminding him painfully of what he had lost. Back in England, he had frequently dreamt of coming back, walking in the woods, living in Cair Paravel, spending time with Peridan, Princes Cor and Corin, Mr. Tumnus, Sairah…and yet now that his wish had come true, it was twisted, like a mocking of his dreams.

What was the point of coming back if they would not be there?

"It's so different from what I imagined…" he muttered to himself.

"What is?" said the voice of a girl, and Peter turned his head sharply, eyes wide.

It was Susan. He relaxed, and suddenly groaned, breaking a blade of grass with his fingers and turning it over in his hands. His sister came to sit down next to him. Peter groaned again, realizing that the situation was increasingly getting similar to the scene that he had remembered in his dreams. Only this time, it was his sister…not Sairah.

Susan frowned. "Are you worried about her too?"

Yes. He _was_ worried, but he had an idea that the 'her' that Susan was referring to was not the same 'her' that he meant. He nodded, though, and suddenly remembered what had happened that afternoon with Lucy. His youngest sister had claimed to see Aslan earlier, although none of them had seen the Lion. And Peter was quite sure that he would see Aslan clearly if he had truly being there. Lucy was letting her imagination running ahead of her.

He did not say anything, though, and naturally Susan grew suspicious. He almost groaned again at his own lack of enthusiasm when it came to feigning worry over something completely different. However, he merely looked up from the grass to his sister, who was looking at him with what seemed to be concern.

"It's not that, is it?" she asked him. "What is it?"

"I don't really know", he said. It was not exactly a lie…he did _know_, but he did not _really_ know…

"Of course you know," said Susan, seeing right through him. What was it with women –or girls- understanding him better than he understood himself? He made a face and suddenly he was baring his heart to his sister, before he even knew it. Maybe it was the fact that he had kept it in for so long that made it so much easier to speak to Susan.

"Don't you miss them?" he asked, "the people we left behind? They're all _dead_ now."

Susan frowned. "I suppose so. I didn't really have any close friends in Narnia, I guess…I spent more time with Lucy…but I _do_ miss and the Beavers...old king Lune from Archenland...yes, I miss them. But there really isn't anything we can do about it, is there? They must have all lived long and happy years here."

Peter looked at the grass once more. "It's just…I spent so much time thinking about coming back and seeing everyone that I never really expected it to be this way. Now we don't know anyone, and all they seem to know about us are legends. I never expected this."

"It's not what you imagined," she replied, echoing the start of their conversation. She lay down on the grass, looking up at him as he sat still, deep in thought. It occurred to her that her brother had not told her everything.

"That's not all, is it?"

He looked at her sharply. "What makes you say that?"

Susan sat up again, bringing her knees to her chin. "Sairah?"

He chuckled mirthlessly. "Am I that transparent?"

She grinned wryly. "No. But I have more experience with-"

"Crazed princes that want you to the point of attacking Narnia? I agree."

"Oh, be quiet. I was stupid that time, I admit it." She said, rolling her eyes at him.

"I hope you do. It would have cost us our country if Cor hadn't been there to help…" his good humor vanished abruptly, and he added, "Do you think she's still alive?"

Susan hesitated. "I don't know," she answered slowly. "She did say she was immortal, didn't she?"

"Yes. But how could she have survived all that? The battle…and the magic that seems to be keeping the River-God and the Naiads asleep."

"I don't know," she said again. "She might have." But Peter could notice that she did not believe what she was saying. He sighed.

"I was going to propose to her, you know."

Susan's head snapped up, and she gazed at him with wide eyes. "You were?"

He nodded grimly. "I told her I would talk to her when we came back from hunting the Stag…and we never came back."

She stared at him for a moment, and suddenly threw her arms around him. Peter, taken by surprise, only patted her on the back rather awkwardly while she spoke into his shoulder. "Oh, Peter…I'm so sorry."

"It's all right," he said in a low voice after a moment. "I suppose I would have to leave sooner or later. I just wish she could still be here."

Susan drew away and looked at him sadly. "Yes, I suppose that would have happened."

He sighed again and looked up. The Narnian constellations twinkled down at him and he lay down again, setting his sword and shield beside him. "You should get some sleep, Su," he said.

She nodded. "You're right." Lying down a few paces away, she turned to look at him.

"Thanks," he said in a low voice. She smiled at him, rather sadly, and closed her eyes.

Soon, they were both asleep.

* * *

Thank's for reading! Please, please, please leave a review! I promise to post soon!


	4. Return

**A/N: **I'm sorry for taking such a long time to update! I've been pretty busy lately. I haven't edited this chapter and I'm posting the first version, so feel free to tell me whatever mistakes I've made.

**Disclaimer: **Unfortunately, nothing is mine except for Sairah.

* * *

"He ought to have come back by now, if he had had any success."

Nikabrik was scowling even more than usual. Caspian sighed.

"We must bear in mind that many things could have happened on the way. He might have had to avoid Telmarine soldiers."

"Or he could have been killed by them."

Dr. Cornelius shifted uncomfortably. "It is necessary that we remain calm while we wait, and trust that he will come back with help."

"Calm?" the black dwarf's voice rose as he spoke. "_Calm_? How can I remain calm? How can _any _of us remain calm? My people are dying. And if they do not die by the swords of Miraz's soldiers, then they will die of hunger while we stay here, huddled together like fools. I cannot remain _calm._"

"Then what do you propose we do, Nikabrik?" asked Caspian as he drew his fingers through his hair in a tired manner. Once more they were in the central room of Aslan's How, sitting on logs. All but the black dwarf, who was standing, his eyes dark and angry. It was mid-morning, and already the growth of the Telmarine army was evident. The Old Narnians were cornered.

"Try something else. Look somewhere else." His cryptic remark confused them all, and Caspian looked quizzically at him.

"Pattertwig's return has made it obvious that even if anything had come to aid us, then it is dead," Nikabrik stated. "Soldiers have been posted by the Lantern Waste, so what makes you think that they aren't at Cair Paravel?"

"You know that well, Nikabrik," answered Trufflehunter's husky voice. "Cair Paravel is not only surrounded by trees; it is beside the sea."

"But Nikabrik is right in one thing," said Dr. Cornelius with a grimace. "We have no way of knowing whether Trumpkin is alive or dead."

"We can't wait any longer," said the black dwarf, his eyes flashing as he looked at Caspian, who watched him wearily. "Our time is running out, and if we do not find a way to save ourselves soon, by the next full moon we'll be lucky if we are a memory."

And with that, he strode off, leaving the room.

Dr. Cornelius sighed, and Caspian had to hold himself back from doing the same. Trufflehunter, however, stood up, sniffing, and spoke.

"Welcome."

The other two looked up and saw Sairah, who entered the room cautiously and frowned.

"I heard that the squirrel came back," she said in a low voice.

Caspian nodded. "There were soldiers posted around Lantern Waste. They suspected our returning there, for some reason."

She sighed. "Then we must place our hope in Cair Paravel."

There was a silence, and Caspian put his head in his hands. It was a horrible thought: the last King of Narnia. The King who led his people to death. Caspian, the Tenth and the last. He grimaced at his own inability to be more productive, and wondered if all kings had to go through this feeling of complete uselessness.

He lifted his head and looked at those around him. Dr. Cornelius was frowning as he stared at the ground, deep in thought, and Trufflehunter had apparently left the room. Sairah, however, was staring at him strangely.

Her eyes were wide and her expression was strangely unfocused, as if she was not looking at him, but at something from far away, or a memory. As he watched her, Caspian recognized the same pain that he had seen in her the night before, the same haunted expression.

"Lady?" he asked in a low voice. Sairah flinched and her expression disappeared, replaced by her normal serious one.

"Forgive me," she said, looking away. Dr. Cornelius cleared his throat and they all turned to look at him. Looking a bit abashed at the attention, the old man smiled at Sairah.

"Perhaps you would like to see the camp," he suggested.

* * * * * *

The faun's hooves ran lightly over the stone as he hurried towards Sairah. A faint smile appeared on her face in response to his vide grin.

"I can show you around, if you like," he offered, bowing. She nodded, and followed him out into the sunlight.

The camp was an interesting place. Tents of all sizes were strewn across the grass, and all manner of people and beasts ran about, working, resting or talking. There were tiny mice and a great giant, and creatures of every manner and size. However, Sairah quickly realized that this was most certainly not an ideal army, for it was small in comparison to Miraz's army, and it was evident that (with the possible exception of Glenstorm's family and the mice) they were not trained in battle.

They watched her curiously as she went, leaving a trail of wet footprints on the grass. They looked thin and tired, but in spite of that she could clearly see that they would lay their lives down for Narnia's freedom.

The faun with the brown hair that was guiding her was watching her curiously as well, and she fell into step beside him as he spoke.

"I am Aureius," he said, and she introduced herself, though there was probably no need to, since word of who she was had reached the entire camp the day before.

"Where you at the last battle?" he asked abruptly. His question was said in a low voice, and he faltered slightly as her dark eyes turned to look at him.

There was a pause before she spoke. "Yes, I was." Aureius' eyes widened as he realized how old she must be, and she continued: "It was a terrible battle. The Telmarines went to kill, not to take prisoners. We were not aware that their army was past our borders until a few hours before, and they fell upon us when we hardly had enough to fight. They had always pretended to be our allies." She sighed as they passed a group of black dwarves, who eyed them warily as they hammered. "My sisters and I destroyed two of their ships, but it was too late. We could hear their dying screams from miles away."

The faun was silent, a horrified frown on his face. "How terrible," he finally said, "I have heard the story told by my grandfather, but never have I met someone who was actually _there_. It is an honor to meet you.'

"And I am honored to meet you all as well."

Time passed quickly that day, but more Telmarine soldiers grouped at the foot of the hill. Caspian, Dr. Cornelius and some others sat together for many hors, planning their strategy and trying to ignore the horrible feeling of foreboding that filled their hearts.

No one had come.

Nikabrik had wandered off at midday, saying he would return soon, and the black dwarves grumbled even more, angry with Caspian and what they called 'his incompetent reign'.

Sairah spoke to many of the fauns and centaurs; listening to what had happened in the years she had slept past. Tales of oppression and death, mostly, telling of attempts to win back Narnia that ended in tragedy. It did not lift her spirits, unsurprisingly, and she felt tired. When Nikabrik returned, bringing two silent and cloaked figures in tow, she shivered and left the cave to help a badger in his patrol around the camp. She knew that she would be of no use in the matter that Nikabrik meant to present to Caspian, whatever it was.

The camp was silent, and the forlorn figures of many creatures could be seen sitting alone or in groups around fires, exhausted. It was only after some minutes that an argument broke out between the talking mice and the black dwarves, both groups that had been in a foul mood throughout the day. The mice threatened to use violence and the dwarves responded in kind, and nothing they could do seemed to calm them. The badger remained, to go looking for Glenstorm, while Sairah tiredly made her way back to the cave in Aslan's How to see Caspian. They all knew that he would be the only one that would be able to calm the mice.

There were low voices in the room as she approached it. A foul smell seemed to be seeping out of the door, and Sairah frowned. Surely Nikabrik had not done anything rash?

She opened the door slowly. Many people were sitting inside, and there seemed to be bodies on the floor. But Sairah only turned to Caspian, saying: "Caspian, a fight has broken out between the talking mice and the black dwarves. They need you to calm them."

Caspian groaned, and touched his arm gingerly. There was a bandage on it, and Sairah gazed horrified at the ground. There was what seemed to be a _werewolf_ lying dead, and a very ugly woman that could only be a hag. What had happened?

Dr. Cornelius followed the King out without a word, eyeing Caspian's bleeding arm worriedly. Trufflehunter stayed, clapping a red dwarf on the shoulder in a friendly way.

Sairah stared. The dwarf was Trumpkin. Her eyes turned slowly to the two boys beside him.

The first had dark brown hair and black eyes that were shining with joy. The second had light brown hair and brown eyes that were staring at her in shock. Both had an air of nobility about them.

Edmund.

Peter.

She gasped.

* * *

Yay! My first cliffie! Please, read and review :)


	5. Reunion

**A/N: Yes, I know. I'm a horrible person. But here's the next chapter...and I'm almost dying of nerves. I've never published anything like this...**

**Disclaimer: All is C.S. Lewis, except for Sairah. Most of the dialogue of the second half of this chapter belongs to him. **

* * *

The world stopped at that very moment. Everything froze. Nothing was real anymore as her eyes fell on him.

Sairah was vaguely aware of Caspian passing her in the doorway, followed by Trumpkin and Doctor Cornelius. She barely noticed the fact that Edmund stood awkwardly for a second before calling Trufflehunter to go outside with some excuse. She did not look at him as he grinned knowingly when he left.

All she saw was Peter.

He was a boy once more, much younger than how he had been when he had left, but it did not matter. His eyes were the same shade of brown and held the same knowledge and experience that they had held centuries ago. His hair, though shorter, was the same color, and he was dressed in the armor of Narnia, with his sword at his side and his shield lying in the floor beside him. Nothing mattered; only him.

He was watching her in shock, his eyes wide, watching her with so much intensity that it overwhelmed her. His arms were loose at his sides as he stared at her disbelievingly, too surprised to think that she was actually there.

Slowly, she stepped away from the doorway towards him. She stepped over the hag's wrinkled corpse and stopped in front of him, eyes wide, breathless with shock and trembling. Sairah faltered for a second before raising her hand to touch his cheek, stroking it with her finger with a strange sense of urgency, as if she was trying to find out if he was truly there. Limp, her hand fell from his face when she felt the warmth of his skin. His arm suddenly moved, and she felt his fingers wrap themselves around her forearm firmly.

Time seemed to freeze as they gazed at each others' eyes. They felt the energy flowing through her arm and through his hand, connecting them. After what could have been seconds, or could have been years, his lips parted and he spoke in no more than a faint whisper.

"You're alive."

The words brought her voice back, loosening the strange grip that seemed to have fastened itself around her throat. She let out a breath she had not realized she had been holding, and she took in his every feature with a strange mixture of shock, surprise, delight, grief and love.

"You are too."

He chuckled lightly, breathlessly, his heart pounding in his chest. He had thought that she was dead, and though he _knew_ she would not be there, deep down in his heart he had had a glimmer of hope. And now his very dreams seemed to have come true.

Suddenly she fell onto his shoulder, face buried in his neck, her hands meeting at his back. He held her tightly to him, drinking in the scent of rain in the spring from her hair.

"I missed you." Sairah spoke in little more than a whisper, murmuring against his skin as she hugged him. "I thought you were dead. What happened to you?"

"I missed you too, and I also thought you were dead." Peter chuckled mirthlessly again. "Rather pathetic, isn't it, that we both thought the same thing about each other?" His arms held her firmly yet tenderly against him, and he felt shivers down his spine as she spoke against his neck.

"Yes, it is."

"We went back to our world," he explained, still speaking in a low voice. "For us it's only been a year."

She pulled away sharply, but her arms were still around him. She stared at him in surprise. "What?"

"Only a year," he repeated with a grimace. "And now I'm a boy again. Not the man you remember. How did you recognize me?"

They were still staring at each other in shock, as if neither of them could truly comprehend how the other had gotten there, and as if it was all a dream that would simply vanish if they let go of each other.

"As if I would not be able to," she remarked with a smile. For the first time in centuries, the smile was real and filled with joy. A great weight seemed to have been lifted from her heart, and it was clearly visible on her face. "You looked a bit smaller when we first met, but you are the same man I grew to love, ages ago. And I still love you."

"I never stopped loving you, either," he said, and bringing his hand to her cheek, caressing her skin lightly with his fingers. Her eyes stared at him with so much love he felt he would burst of it. "I only wish I had told you sooner."

And then her lips were on his and they were kissing with more passion than they had ever imagined. His hand buried itself in her hair and the other held her to him, as she brought her arms around his neck and told him wordlessly exactly how much she had missed him, and how great her love was for him. Peter had never felt so much joy in his life as he murmured her name against her lips.

Suddenly there was a creak, and they heard a voice. Sairah pulled away, turning to look at the door, where a very embarrassed Edmund stood.

"Er- sorry for interrupting," he said awkwardly, averting his eyes. "But people are coming to dispose of the bodies and I don't really think you'd like to be caught like that."

Peter grinned. "Thanks, Ed," he said, and taking Sairah's hand they left the room. Sairah stopped at the door, however, and embraced Edmund like a brother.

"It is wonderful to see you again," she said.

"It's great to see you too." He grinned as she pulled away, and led them towards the place where they would have breakfast.

* * * * * * *

Caspian stared as Peter and Sairah walked into one of the dark, musty cellars of Aslan's How, hand in hand. There was a change in the daughter of the River-God; a new light in her eyes, lightness in her manner, a new joy in the way she walked. Her eyes still held the grave knowledge of uncountable years, but they no longer seemed haunted. Sairah caught his gaze and her lips curved into almost a smile. He gaped as she looked away. It was the first time she had actually seemed happy.

As they sat down beside the others and Peter and Edmund pulled out cold bear meat, she spoke.

"What of your sisters?" She was almost afraid to ask the question. Perhaps some evil had befallen them? But Peter's expression did not cloud and he said, "I'll explain that later, if you don't mind."

They ate hungrily, even though the food was cold and dry. Caspian informed the two other Kings of the recent happenings, although after what they had heard from the conversation with Nikabrik there was not much they needed to know. Soon they fell into silence, and it was only as they finished that Peter spoke.

"Now," he said, "Aslan and the girls (That's Queen Susan and Queen Lucy, Caspian) are somewhere close. We don't know when he will act. In his time, no doubt, not ours. In the meantime he would like us to do what we can on our own." He turned to Caspian as Sairah nodded and Trufflehunter turned to gaze at Trumpkin in awe at the fact that the dwarf had met Aslan. "You say, Caspian, we are not strong enough to meet Miraz in pitched battle."

"I'm afraid not, High King." Caspian was quieter than usual, and Edmund stifled a grinn at the respectful tone. He had forgotten how funny it was to hear his brother addressed as such.

Peter, on the other hand, was very comfortable, and the light in his eyes reminded Sairah so much of his older self that she hardly saw him as the boy that he was now. Indeed, the agelessness of her face made them look perfect together, even as it had made them look perfect when he had looked as an older man.

"Very well, then," he said. "I'll send him a challenge to single combat."

There were expressions of surprise from everyone in the room. Sairah's hand tightened around Peter's, and her face became grim once more.

"Please," said Caspian, "could it not be me? I want to avenge my father."

"You're wounded," said Peter. "And anyway, wouldn't he just laugh at a challenge from you? I mean, we have seen that you are a king and a warrior, but he thinks of you as a kid."

"But must it be you?" said Sairah, in a voice so low that Peter heard her. He turned and met her gaze, and she nodded, realizing that it was necessary. She sighed, frowning slightly as Trufflehunter spoke, asking if Miraz would even accept a challenge from him, knowing that the Telmarines were a stronger army.

"Very likely he won't, but there's always the chance. And even if he doesn't, we shall spend the best part of the day sending heralds to and fro and all that. By then Aslan may have done something. And at least I can inspect the army and strengthen the position. I will send the challenge. In fact I will write it at once."

They listened quietly as Peter dictated the challenge to Dr. Cornelius, who wrote it down quickly. Sairah hardly listened, contemplating the decision he had made.

Perhaps it was for the best.

* * *

**Ok, so tell me...how bad was it? **


	6. The challenge

There were murmurs throughout the camp as Edmund, Glenstorm and the Giant Wimbleweather walked past them carrying green branches in their hands. A little way off came Caspian and Peter, walking straight in the new sunlight, followed by many others.

"What is happening, Sire?" asked a rabbit, leaping towards them, his ears stiff and his eyes wide. "We have heard terrible rumors." Suddenly his eyes turned away from Caspian and fixed themselves upon Peter, widening with surprise and wonder. The murmurs suddenly increased, changing from worried to excited, even as the Old Narnians recognized Peter and Edmund.

"Aslan has brought us help," said Caspian in a loud voice, and there was a smile on his lips despite the fact that he had never been more worried in his life. "And the four Kings and Queens of old have returned. Two of them, the High King Peter and King Edmund are with us now, and Queens Susan and Lucy are in Aslan's company; most certainly they will join us some time soon."

There were cries of joy from some, and many sharp intakes of breath. Sairah's lips curled into a slight smile, and her eyes met Peter's for a split second before she looked around, seeing the merry expressions on many faces, and the glimmers of hope that had returned to the eyes of the Old Narnians.

Then Peter raised a hand and a hush fell over the camp once more. He turned to look at Caspian, who nodded quickly. Peter did not want to make Caspian feel that he was trying to take his place.

"I think that by now it has been made apparent," said Peter, his voice carrying out with a strength that had not been in his voice since he last left Narnia. "That the Telmarines are too numerous to have victory over them in battle."

The silence was filled with dread, and the Old Narnians looked at each other in dismay.

"However," continued the High King, "we have another option. This afternoon, should Miraz accept the challenge, I will confront him in single combat to the death. The winner shall have Narnia forever."

And hope was alighted once more, though there was worry in the eyes of the creatures all around the Kings.

"Do not be afraid," said Peter, and a smile lit up his face, seeming joyous and hopeful, though his hand reached out and took Sairah's tightly; a strength that came not from hope but from worry and fear. "We will defeat the Telmarines, because Aslan is here, he has not forsaken us, and he will give us victory!"

And the hill erupted in cheers of joy and strength. The flame of hope and energy had been kindled, and the Old Narnians stood up straight once more, their eyes shining, ready for victory. In front of Aslan's How they crowded, watching the three messengers walking towards Miraz's camp to issue the challenge.

With the attention no longer focused on him, Peter turned to look at Sairah, his stance normal, but his eyes were filled with desperation. Her grip on his hand tightened, and she pulled him after her, walking quietly towards the other side of the Hill, where there were no more people and they could only hear the breeze rustling in the trees.

There, they turned to look at each other.

"Am I strong enough?" he asked, looking into her eyes earnestly. And in him she saw not the young boy, frightened and lost, but the High King, worried for the fate of his kingdom. But when Sairah saw the High King, she also saw the man, full of doubt for his own capability, and she smiled a smile of comfort and of love.

"Yes," she said, not faltering for a second. "Yes. You are strong enough; you always have been strong enough. That is why Aslan has sent you. He would not have sent you if he did not know that you could do it."

"But you're still afraid, aren't you?"

She lowered her gaze, and her smile disappeared. "Of course I am. But it would be strange if I was not. I love you." She looked at him again, and he could see the strain in her. She did not want to lose him.

Peter pulled her to him, and put his arms around her. In truth, he did not know who was comforting who…they were both feeling a mixture of hope and desperation, and it was hard for him to decide which was stronger.

Presently they pulled away, knowing that they must return to the others or they would start to wonder. Sairah sighed, her dark hair falling around her face like a dark curtain.

"I must return to the river before the battle," she said. "And I think now is the safest time to do so. I will return in an hour or so."

Peter nodded reluctantly, knowing that it would be best that she had the most of her energy before the combat, just in case her strength was needed. She turned to him just as they were about to reach the camp, and reached up to pull his face towards hers, planting a soft kiss on the corner of his lips. He moved his face sideways slightly, hoping for more, but she pulled away and gave him a smile that, had he not known better, he would have described as sly.

"Wait," he called after her even as she turned and began to walk away from him. She turned questioningly.

"Your father and your sisters…they aren't awake yet, are they?" he asked.

She shook her head. "No. Only I am. Perhaps it was the half human part of me that caused me to awaken."

And then she was gone, running through the grass and disappearing into the trees.

* * * * * * * *

When the messengers returned, an hour later, they were greeted with an expectant silence. They said nothing until they reached Peter, the Giant wearing a rather gleeful, if slightly lost, smile on his face as he dragged the broken remnants of the green branch he had been carrying through the creatures, who jumped out of the way to avoid being bruised.

Then, in a solemn voice, Edmund announced: "He has accepted the challenge."

There was a hush, and then murmurs broke out, both of excitement and anxiousness. Glenstorm came closer to Caspian and Peter as the Kings walked back into Aslan's How.

"King Edmund has already marked the location for the challenge, and almost all the preparations are made for two o' clock this afternoon. All that remains to be arranged are the three marshals that shall stand at the corners of the enclosure of ropes and stakes."

Caspian was nodding, and was about to say something when suddenly Edmund burst into uncontrollable laughter.

They stared at him in surprise, and Glenstorm's expression was something akin to horror.

"I fear he might have contracted some kind of disease, Sire," said Trumpkin, who was following behind quietly until that moment.

"Perhaps we should throw him to the Telmarines and see if he gives the disease to them; maybe they'll all die and Narnia will be ours," said Peter with a sly grin.

"Oh, shut it Peter, and you too, DLF," said Edmund between gasps of laughter. "It's just…you should have seen…Miraz's face…!"

They stared at him in silence. In a few seconds he had regained some composure and was able to speak almost normally.

"Let's just say the Lords of Miraz's Council had a really interesting way to convince him…they were saying that he was too old to fight you, Peter. Some sort of reverse psychology…!" and he was laughing again, stopping to lean against the walls of the hall.

"Reverse _what_?" said Caspian, utterly at loss, though he was smiling at the sight of one of the Kings of old having a fit of laughter.

"Never mind," said Peter, chuckling at the state his brother was in, and turning his back on the dark haired boy. "Let's get back to business."

"Oh! I was about to tell you that I should be one of the marshals," said Caspian, becoming serious once more.

"Well, you can't be," said Peter with a slight grimace. "You're the one we're who's right to the throne we're fighting about-"

And at that moment he was interrupted by the eldest of the Bulgy Bears, who had come into the room rather shyly to inquire whether he could be one of the marshal's, because after all it was part of tradition.

A very long discussion ensued, after which a slightly annoyed Peter decided that the Giant Wimbleweather, the eldest of the Bulgy Bears and the Centaur Glenstorm would be marshals. Leaving the others with a rather frustrated Repicheep, he walked out of the room to find himself with his brother who had now collected himself and was even looking rather worried.

"I say," said Edmund, sounding a bit uncomfortable as they neared the way out of Aslan's How. "I suppose it _is_ all right. I mean, I suppose you can beat him?"

"That's what I'm fighting him to find out," said Peter.


	7. Battle

**A/N: **I've been trying to find someone that can make a banner for this fanfic, but I really can't find anyone. Any volunteers get lots of chocolate! XD

**Disclaimer: **I don't own anything except for Sairah and Aureius...neither in this chapter or in the previous one, or ever.

Sairah returned an hour later, her hair falling damp about her shoulders and her feet leaving wet footprints on the dirt. Peter was still discussing the particulars of the confrontation when she reached him, and while he looked up when she passed, he was busy and she did not wish to disturb him. Looking around, she caught sight of Aureius, the faun she had spoken to the night before.

"Hello," said the faun, looking up from the log he sat on.

Sairah smiled; a soft and thoughtful smile. "Why do you sit here alone?" she asked him, sitting down on a log opposite him.

He shrugged his bare shoulders. "My brothers have gone to retrieve their swords from one of the smiths. They were broken in the last battle."

"Ah."

Aureius was silent, and then he suddenly looked up at her, a questioning look in his eyes. Her smile widened slightly and she raised an eyebrow. "Go on," she said. "Ask your question."

"I…I don't wish to be a nuisance." He said, looking uncomfortable.

"You are not."

The faun hesitated, and then asked: "Are you a naiad?"

"Not quite," she said. "My father is the River God. Many centuries ago, before the Golden Age of Narnia, my father fell in love with a woman from Calormen, who had come to the river distraught, for she was betrothed to a man she did not love. Taking human form, he sat by her side and comforted her, and she fell in love with him also. She joined his side in the river as a naiad, for Aslan's will is great and by his power she was no longer human. But she bore me as half-human, and for that reason I can walk on land so far from the river. My sisters are not like me, and they are confined to the river and its surroundings. I suspect it was my half human nature that caused me to awaken before any of my kin. They lie asleep, deep within the water."

The faun was silent, amazed by the story. "I have never heard that."

She smiled. "It is because you are young, Aureius. In the time of the four Kings and Queens, the tale was a legend known by most…the only time there was ever a mix of humans and the People of the Waters."

At that precise moment Peter stood up from where he sat and left the clearing with Edmund at his side, walking towards Aslan's How.

"Excuse me," said Sairah, standing up once more, and she followed them.

It was one o' clock already, and the Old Narnians prepared themselves, clad in armor with weapons in their arms, though there was not going to be a full battle. Slowly, they began to leave Aslan's How, led by Caspian and Doctor Cornelius. Their footsteps could be felt in the ground as they moved, filled with a mixture of anxiety and excitement.

Peter himself felt strangely numb, now that it was almost time for the fight. He stood still as Edmund fastened his breastplate. His brother was also silent, but Peter knew that despite his strong appearance, the boy was very worried. Occasionally their eyes would make contact, and Peter would shake his head slightly, indicating that there was no reason to worry, while his brother sighed and scowled, because Edmund always scowled when he was worried.

Sairah suddenly entered the cave, and while her eyes fastened only on Peter's, her hands reached out and began to help fasten his arm guards. As if awakening from a dream, he brought his other hand to help. Their fingers occasionally touched, and they drew comfort out of each other's warmth, and the feeling of skin against skin. Sairah began to feel as if a hand was holding her heart, tightening its grip slowly. Her fingers were shaking, and Peter could see it.

"We should get going," said Edmund, his voice tense as he passed Peter his helm.

The High King nodded, even as Sairah finished fastening the arm guards and drew her fingers over his hand one last time, her touch strong but worried. Her dark eyes closed briefly and she let him pass in front of her before placing a hand on the armor on his arm, holding onto the metal as if it was her life. Peter turned his head and saw her, and his look gave her strength.

The Telmarines were already there, grouped on one side of the clearing, shining a fell silver in the sunlight. On the other side sat the Old Narnians, silent but defiant. The large square spot where the fight would be was marked by stakes and ropes, and around it stood the marshals. Peter groaned as he caught sight of the Bulgy Bear, who was inevitably sucking his paw with insistence, and the Giant Wimbleweather, who was smiling dazedly. To compensate for the lack of refinement of his companions, however, Glenstorm stood solemn and powerful on one of the corners, making the Telmarine marshals rather uneasy.

Doctor Cornelius appeared at Peter's side.

"Good luck, Sire," he said, bowing his head slightly. "I am sure you will defeat him."

Peter grinned; a strained but nevertheless strong grin. "Thank you for everything," he said, and shook hands with the Doctor.

He turned to look at his brother, who stood straight and tense. They said nothing to each other, but shook hands firmly, and Edmund said: "Good luck, Pete."

"Thanks," said Peter, and he turned to look at Sairah even as the other two walked away. He said nothing to her, either, but looked deep into her eyes.

She reached up and touched both his cheeks with her hands that felt cool against his hot skin. She held his face gently for a split second, before he lowered his face and touched his lips to hers in a fierce, short kiss. In that short moment, she felt his mouth work with pure passion that was born out of love and fear, and her kiss was the same, but then he pulled away and she let out a small gasp, her lips slightly separated and her eyes flying open.

"I love you," his breath whispered against her face before he was gone, walking into the square to face Miraz.

She stood there, still as a statue, before she hurried to where Edmund and Doctor Cornelius sat. But then her eyes met a sight so familiar but so surprising that her eyes widened and she stood in pure shock for a moment, before a slow smile appeared on her face.

Behind the Old Narnians stood creatures even older than them, some almost as old as Sairah herself: Dryads, Hamadryads and Silvans. They appeared as people both tall and beautiful, but noticeably not human. If they stood perfectly still you could mistake them for trees, for their skin was dark and there were leaves in their hair and draped around their bodies.

They smiled at her, moving slowly, their leaves fluttering in the breeze, and Sairah wondered briefly about her family before sitting down beside Edmund.

There was a terrible silence as Peter and Miraz approached each other. Sairah's hands were folded on her lap, her fingers intertwining with each other in a forceful grip.

And then the swords fell on each other with a clash. There was a roar of noise as both armies began to cheer their kings on, applauding and shouting. Miraz and Peter hardly heard anything, though, their full concentration on the fight. Peter swung his sword with strength, causing the Telmarine king to reel back a pace and a half. In that split second their gazes connected and Peter was startled by the pure hatred in their black depths, before he hurried forward, pushing the king backwards. In the back of his mind, he heard the roar of the Old Narnians as they encouraged him.

It continued. The armor was heavy and hot, but they persisted, determined to win the fight. Miraz seemed to realize where his true strength lied, and he began to bear on Peter, making good use of his weight and height. The Telmarines' yells were louder now, strengthened by their king's display of power.

Sairah sat silent, her body stiff and her eyes wide as she took in the sight before her. Her nails were digging into her skin, but she barely noticed it.

"Peter is taking some dreadful knocks," said Edmund, his voice tense. If the High King stepped wrong even once, or missed one centimeter with his sword, the fight would be over and Miraz would win. For Sairah, Caspian's right to the throne had ceased to matter; her only concern was Peter's life.

And then they had separated, both stepping back as if on mutual accord. Under his helm, Peter was sweating profusely, his breath coming in quick gusts. Before him, Miraz was in the same state. Peter drew confidence from the fact that the older king seemed to be a bit more tired than he was, though the wrist that held his shield ached horribly, making him weaker on his left arm. He tried to ignore the pain; it would do him no good to think of it. Slowly, as if mirroring each other, they began to circle, sensing each other's defenses. Peter's eyes flitted from here to there, trying to find a place where Miraz would not expect him to attack. They drew closer.

Suddenly, Peter thrust his arm forwards, stabbing the Telmarine in the arm hole of the hauberk. Miraz deflected him before he could cause any more damage, grunting with pain as blood dripped from the wound. His teeth were bared, now, making him look like a feral dog before his sword clashed against Peter's once more, throwing Peter backwards a step. Sairah watched with growing horror, her teeth clenched, as the High King stumbled ever so slightly, holding his left arm limp and barely managing not to get stabbed by his opponent.

"Is there any chance now?" asked Caspian, his voice rather hoarse.

"Precious little," said Edmund, and Sairah could feel his body tense against her shoulder. "I suppose he might _just_ do it. With luck." But his tone was that of a person who held stubbornly onto his only hope, while knowing all the time that there was no chance.

And suddenly there was silence once more, and Miraz and Peter left the enclosure; there would be two minutes of rest.

Hurriedly, Edmund ran towards his brother, accompanied by Doctor Cornelius and Sairah. Peter stood with his helm under his right arm, dropping his shield to his side. His face was red and sweaty, his chest heaving and his jaw was set with pain.

"Is your left arm wounded?" Edmund asked as soon as they reached his side.

"It's not exactly a wound," said Peter. "I got the full weight of his shoulder on my shield—like a load of bricks—and the rim of the shield drove into my wrist. I don't think it's broken, but it might be a sprain. If you could tie it up very tight I think I could manage."

Quickly, Edmund cut a piece out of his shirt and Doctor Cornelius helped him tie up Peter's wrist as tightly as they could. Sairah came to stand at Peter's shoulder, helping hold his arm still. He grimaced with pain as the pressure was applied, but he felt better, and he nodded as they finished the job.

"I have a chance if I can keep him on the hop till his weight and short wind come against him—in this hot sun too. To tell the truth, I haven't much chance else. Give my love to—to everyone at home, Ed, if he gets me."

Peter's expression was calm, while that of his brother's was haunted. He had never imagined a life without Peter…his older brother had always been a symbol of strength to him, though he had never been aware of it. To see Peter losing a battle was something that had strangely been inconceivable before now. Edmund was speechless, feeling as if something had hit him very hard, and he was still dazed from the impact.

"Here he comes into the lists again," said Peter, glancing at the enclosure. "So long, old chap. Good-bye, Doctor. And I say, Ed, say something especially nice to Trumpkin. He's been a brick."

As they walked away, Peter turned to Sairah. Her eyes were wide, desperate, haunted. There were no more words of comfort, or loving touches. There were only his eyes, and the secure way in which he stared at her.

"I love you," he said. "Until the death."

And he was gone, his helm on his head and his shield on his arm, strong and straight against the hot sun.


	8. Victory

**A/N: **Thank you for your reviews! You have no idea how encouraging they are… I hope you enjoy this chapter. And special thanks to the LWW movie soundtrack…I wouldn't have gotten this far without it. It's unbelievably awesome!

**Disclaimer:** Everything you recognize isn't mine, especially most of the dialogue.

* * *

Miraz came down upon Peter, his sword flashing as the sun hit it. It looked as if he was about to slash off his head.

Sairah stood as still as stone, her grip so hard, her fingers had long since gone numb, but she did not notice. Her stomach churned and a gasp escaped her lips as the blow fell upon Peter.

But it glanced off the armor on his right shoulder, and in no time Peter was on his feet again, pulling himself up by Miraz's arm, his lips set in a firm line as the fight erupted once more in a flurry of blows that seemed only a blur. Grunts came from the older king as he fought against the sheer speed of the Narnian king's sword. There was a terrible silence as the crowd watched in a mixture of horror and fascination.

And suddenly Miraz fell before Peter, who stared in shock, not having realized that he hit the Telmarine. But he had not; Miraz had tripped on a tussock and had fallen on his face. Recovering his breath, Peter stepped back, knowing that it was not honorable to strike a man that had fallen to the ground.

Sairah watched with baited breath as everyone waited. But Miraz never got on his feet.

There was a second more of silence, and then a cry rose from the Telmarines. "Treachery! Treachery! The Narnian traitor has stabbed him in the back while he lay helpless. To arms! To arms, Telmar!" Two of the Telmarine lords ran into the enclosure, their swords drawn. It was obvious that this had been their plan all the time if the battle did not end in their favor.

And then, from Peter's own surprised lips: "To arms, Narnia! Treachery!"

There was a moment of shock, and then a flurry of movement as both armies hurried forwards. Sairah stood still for a second, staring at Peter as he defeated his foes, and then, breathing deeply, she drew her dagger and ran towards the Telmarines.

"Narnia! Narnia! The Lion!"

She blocked the attack of a Telmarine soldier, surprising him with her agility before she beheaded him, her hair flying behind her with every movement as she fought alongside the rest of the Old Narnians. Twenty feet away from her, Peter delivered his blows almost mechanically, exhausted by the fight. Reepicheep and his mice were fighting fiercely, slashing at the enemy's legs with an enthusiasm that was rather frightening. The hiss of arrows filled the air as the dwarves aimed their bows, and the ringing of blade against blade echoed in the clearing.

Sairah's dagger was bathed in blood, and she defeated her enemies swiftly. She had not fought for many years, and her arms were quickly warming up to the work. But then there was a strange rumble, as if it came from the earth itself, and suddenly the Telmarines were running away from them in horror, their faces white, their arms limp, as they shrieked: "The Wood! The Wood! The end of the world!"

And then their cries were drowned out by the voices of the Awakened Trees as they ran through the ranks of the Narnian army, pursuing the Telmarines. Peter stood still, his eyes wide with wonder, for he had not realized that they were awake. Their arms seemed like branches, but they moved with agility beyond that of trees, while leaves fell in their wake. Even some of the Narnians cowered in fear, because it was a rather frightening sight for those who had never seen Dryads, Hamadryads or Silvans before.

The Telmarines ran, terrified, their battle forgotten as they escaped towards the bridge of the Great River, intending to cross until they reached the town of Beruna. But even as they ran away, Sairah understood Aslan's plan and felt in her heart and in her mind a feeling of freedom that had nothing to do with her current state.

"Father," she whispered, and ran after them, Peter and his army behind her.

The Telmarines were huddled together, shivering and shaking with horror as the Narnians approached them. Their weapons lay at their feet, and they made no move to retrieve them. Peter could not see Sairah, but to his surprise he realized that the bridge was no longer there. The Narnians stared in wonder at the miracle, and were still for a second before they began to take the weapons of their defeated enemy, who gave in reluctantly, their eyes still wide with shock and fear.

Suddenly they heard strange noises approaching, and all heads turned to in that direction. The Telmarines became grey with terror and many fell down on their faces. Some of the Red Dwarves stared mutely with their mouths open, and some Black Dwarfs began to edge away from the rest of the Narnians. But the rest of them watched with surprise and joy at a great crowd of talking beasts, children, dryads and many other creatures, among whom were the Queens Susan and Lucy, all shouting and laughing with joy as they reached the clearing. And in the midst of the crowd, carrying an old woman upon His back, His mane shining golden in the bright sun, walked Aslan.

Peter was barely aware of Caspian rushing forward at his side to embrace the woman who had been upon the Lion's back. His eyes were wide and full of joy as he saw Aslan, and he forgot the exhaustion that had previously weighed down on him. Everything was all right, because the Lion was here.

Aslan, however, was immediately surrounded by the Talking Beasts, who came to him quickly, making delighted noises and touching him reverently, demonstrating their adoration towards the King above all High Kings. Aslan spoke to them all quietly, making them even more joyful as He directed words of love and compassion to them. Peter turned to look at Caspian, who had just finished speaking to the old woman and was watching Aslan with a mixture of joy, relief and self-consciousness. His eyes met the High King's, and he nodded.

Together, they pushed through the crowd that surrounded Aslan, and in a few seconds they stood before the Great Lion Himself.

The animals fell silent as they realized that the Kings were speaking, and drew away slightly, watching with interest.

Inclining his head with respect, Peter presented Caspian. "This is Caspian, Sir," he said. Caspian stepped forward, knelt and kissed the Lion's paw.

"Welcome, Prince," said Aslan, in a voice that rumbled like the earth itself. "Do you feel yourself sufficient to take up the Kingship of Narnia?"

Peter could see Caspian hesitate. "I—I don't think I do, Sir," he said. "I'm only a kid."

"Good," said Aslan, and Caspian was visibly surprised by the answer. "If you had felt yourself sufficient," explained the Lion, "it would have been a proof that you were not. Therefore, under us and under the High King, you shall be King of Narnia, Lord of Cair Paravel, and Emperor of the Lone Islands. You and your heirs while your race lasts. And your coronation—but what have we here?"

Aslan's golden eyes had turned to look towards one side, and Peter's eyes followed.

From between the crowd of Talking Animals that surrounded them came a small procession of Mice: eleven, six of whom carried a minuscule litter made of branches. They walked slowly, their expressions full of woe, their fur plastered with mud and blood, their ears and whiskers drooping. On the litter, curled up and hurt by many fatal wounds, lay Reepicheep. The expressions of joy on the faces around the small procession disappeared, and there were low gasps from some of the animals.

But Aslan spoke. "Now, Lucy."

Queen Lucy hurried forward, a small diamond bottle filled with red liquid in her hands. She kneeled cautiously beside the litter that the other mice had left carefully on the ground. There was an anxious silence as the others watched her spill one drop of the strange liquid on each wound of the Mouse, and suddenly Reepicheep was on his feet, his hand on his sword hilt and the other twirling his whiskers. Lucy watched with a bright smile on her face as she got to her feet, and the sad expressions of the others disappeared once more, while the mice straightened up in wonder and joy.

"Hail Aslan," said Reepicheep in his shrill voice, beginning to bow. "I have the honor—"

The others stared in surprise as the Mouse stopped in the middle of his bow, and straightened up once more, looking over his right shoulder, and suddenly it became apparent to the group around him and to the mouse himself that Lucy's healing cordial had not made his tail grow back.

Even as Reepicheep opened his small mouth to speak to Aslan, looking rather embarrassed, Peter looked around, moved by some strange feeling. His eyes sought out the river shore, and it was at that moment that he saw a figure emerge from the river. He watched in silence as the figure gracefully waded out, and knew that it was Sairah.

Sairah wore a smile of such great brightness that as he saw her he felt a great swell of joy and love in his heart; she had not smiled like that since the time he had been crowned as High King alongside his brother and sisters. She was wet, but even as she approached them the sheet of water disappeared, and only her hair seemed rather damp. Her eyes were shining, and her bare feet still left tracks on the ground as she walked.

He wanted to go to her, but he was in Aslan's presence, and it would be improper. Either way, she was coming closer, and their eyes met when she reached the crowd of Talking Beasts that surrounded Aslan. She could not come closer because of the amount of creatures that separated them, but her smile was one filled with relief and joy.

His eyes smiled back at her, and she turned to look at the great Lion. His eyes followed her line of sight.

"But what would you want with a tail?" Aslan was saying, His voice sounding amused, despite the gravity that Reepicheep exuded.

"Sir," said the Mouse. "I can eat and sleep and die for my King without one. But a tail is the honor and glory of a Mouse."

"I have sometimes wondered, friend, whether you do not think too much about your honor."

"Highest of all High Kings," said Reepicheep with utmost respect. "Permit me to remind you that a very small size has been bestowed on us Mice, and if we did not guard our dignity, some (who weigh worth by inches) would allow themselves very unsuitable pleasantries at our expense. That is why I have been at some pains to make it known that no one who does not wish to feel this sword as near his heart as I can reach shall talk in my presence about Traps or Toasted Cheese or Candles: no, Sir—not the tallest fool in Narnia!" Not one of those who stood around him failed to notice the fierce glare Reepicheep bestowed upon the Giant Wimbleweather, but the Giant himself.

Suddenly there was the sound of metal against metal, and Aslan turned his great head to look at Reepicheep's followers. "Why have your followers all drawn _their_ swords, may I ask?"

Another mouse, apparently the second in rank, spoke up. "May it please your High Majesty; we are all waiting to cut off our own tails if our Chief must go without his. We will not bear the shame of wearing an honor which is denied to the High Mouse."

"Ah!" roared Aslan. "You have conquered me. You have great hearts. Not for the sake of your dignity, Reepicheep, but for the love that is between you and your people, and still more for the kindness your people showed me long ago when you ate away the cords that bound me to the Stone Table…" Peter, Edmund, Susan, Lucy and Sairah, whom had lived in that time and remembered the pure agony of believing that Aslan was dead, lowered their heads slightly, their eyes downcast. "(and it was then, though you have long forgotten it, that you began to be _Talking_ Mice), you shall have your tail again."

There was an exclamation of joy and a new tail had appeared. "I thank you, oh King who is above all High Kings, for your bounty is surely undying," said Reepicheep, now bowing with all the splendor and grace he could demonstrate.

"Peter," said Aslan. "Come forth; for it is time that the Order of the Lion is bestowed upon the New King of Narnia."

Drawing his sword slowly, and with a smile on his face, Peter did as Aslan said, bestowing Knighthood upon Caspian, who, after he had recovered from the surprise, bestowed it upon Trufflehunter, Trumpkin and Reepicheep, making Doctor Cornelius his Lord Chancellor and confirming the Bulgy Bear in his hereditary office of Marshal of the Lists.

After this was done, all the Narnians applauded with great smiles on their faces, and there was slight movement as they all slowly made their way towards the Telmarines, preparing to lead them firmly but justly towards the city of Beruna, where they were to be placed until Aslan said what they would do with them.

Peter, after bowing respectfully to Aslan, hurried to Sairah.

As soon as he reached her, she threw her arms around him and held him tightly, her face buried in his neck, despite the heavy armor he wore. His arms came around her waist and they stood like that for a few seconds before drawing away. Her eyes were shining, and she caressed his cheek lightly. Peter smiled.

"Are you all right?" she whispered.

"Yes," he said.

"I was frightened," said Sairah. "I thought, for a moment…"

"I'm all right," he said. "It's over."

She nodded, and then said, "I wish to speak to Aslan. I will come to you in a minute."

Peter nodded also, and Sairah, after touching his cheek lightly once more, brushed past him. He made his way towards the river, to help Edmund and Caspian in taking the Telmarines carefully across it.

Aslan stood quietly, waiting for her. His eyes shone like molten gold and his mane was like a halo of light. Sairah walked slowly towards Him, her eyes downcast in respect.

"Daughter of the River," He said, in a voice that came from both the ground and the sky.

"Aslan," she said, and knelt at His feet, kissing the soft velvet of the Lion's paw.

"You have many questions."

"Yes," said Sairah.

"Speak them, then," said Aslan.

"I…I do not understand why I was awoken first," she said, her voice earnest as she stared into the swirling pools of His eyes, "Why me?"

"It was a gift," said Aslan. "To you and to Peter; a reason for both of you to fight for Narnia, and a gift, as well as a lesson."

"I do not understand," she said. "Why was I given this gift?"

"You have suffered for many years," said Aslan, "and you know in your heart that Peter does not belong in Narnia. His world will, eventually, need him, and he will need his world."

Sairah was silent, her eyes downcast and haunted. What the Lion said was true; she had always known. There was a pause, and when she spoke, her voice was a low whisper of despair. "How long do we have?"

"That does not matter," said Aslan. "All that matters is that you make good use of the time that was given to you. The lesson is one of patience and faith; things that you both need."

"Have I failed?"

"Nay," said the Lion. "Quite to the contrary. You have done very well, and for that reason is the gift. Do not worry about the things to come, my daughter, and do not dwell in self-pity, something that may destroy you if you allow it to."

Sairah nodded. "Thank you, Aslan," she said, looking up. "Thank you."

"You have been strong, Sairah," said Aslan. "And you will have to be stronger, for Narnia will need you yet. But for now, enjoy and be glad of your victories." And Aslan breathed on her, a breath that was refreshing and that reminded her of the far magical waters of the sea, and of the sunrise from the river. __________________________________________________________________________________

**I will adore anybody who reviews! It helps keep the inspiration going! Tell me what you think…**


	9. The feast

**A/N: **Thanks for the reviews! I had a hard time writing this chapter…the inspiration just wouldn't come! I guess I've gotten too used to writing very intense scenes….this is kind of a calmer chapter :)

**Disclaimer:** I only own Sairah and the effects she causes on the original plot. All the rest belongs to the wonderful C.S. Lewis.

Sairah found Peter standing in the middle of the shallow river, the water up to his waist, no longer wearing his armor. His hand was at his sword hilt as he supervised the group of Telmarines that waded past, their faces still pale grey.

"Do not make me go further!" exclaimed one, cringing from the water as if it would contaminate him. "These are accursed waters!"

"They are not cursed," said Peter in a bored voice. For the past ten minutes he had had the very same conversation with many of the others. "It's only water. It won't kill you, and the faster you move the quicker you'll get out of it."

"They are truly terrified!" Sairah exclaimed in a low voice, coming to the High King's side. "I was not aware of the extent of their fear. See, they cringe from me even as I speak."

Peter laughed; a tired, low chuckle. He was dirty and sweaty, and Sairah looked completely the opposite; she was clean and refreshed, thanks to the time she had spent in the water before. It was apparent for those who looked at her that she was not completely human, for her dress blended perfectly with the waters of the river, and it was as if she had emerged that very moment. Her fingertips caressed the water softly, almost lovingly.

"You must rest," said Sairah.

Peter shook his head. "Not now. First we have to get all the Telmarines to the village of Beruna."

His eyes met hers, and something ached within Sairah's heart in that silent moment. Her lips parted and she was about to say something when they heard voices.

"Peter!"

Lucy and Susan were hurrying towards them, doing their best to get there quickly as they fought against the current of the river. The sisters hugged Peter briefly, bright smiles on their faces. Both of them looked quite windswept, and Peter had never seen Susan looking so cheerful and carefree.

"I take it you've had a good time," he said with a grin when they released him.

"Yes, but are you all right?" despite the joy in her expression, Lucy was still slightly worried. "You aren't hurt?"

"No," said Peter. "I'm all right."

Then Lucy gasped, her eyes focusing on Sairah.

"Sairah!" she hurried forwards and threw her arms around her. Sairah hugged her back, slightly taken aback by her enthusiasm; it had been a long time since she had met anyone as cheerful as Lucy.

Susan came after her sister, her smile just as joyful but calmer; after all, she was Queen Susan the Gentle. "We missed you," she said as she stepped away.

"It has been a long time," said Sairah, a smile on her lips. "We all missed you as well."

They spoke together even as the Telmarines all reached the other side of the river, and they walked for a few minutes until they reached the town of Beruna. Caspian, Peter, Edmund, Susan and Lucy went in front of the crowd, followed by Sairah, Doctor Cornelius, Trufflehunter, Glenstorm, Trumpkin, Reepicheep and his army of mice. Behind them, the rest of the Old Narnians firmly escorted the terrified Telmarine soldiers, who were quickly put in custody of some guards and fed quite well, while the inhabitants of the town watched in shock and a mixture of fear and excitement.

Peter heard later that Aslan had spoken to the people and given them the new tidings; that Narnia was now Caspian's kingdom, and that Miraz was dead, while giving them hope for new days to come that would be peaceful and full of joy. But Peter himself left, alongside many of the Narnians who had fought in the battle, to wash and dress more presentably.

Caspian found a suitable place for them to stay: an old fort that was no longer used by the Telmarines, for its walls had crumbled many years ago, before Caspian's father had become King, even. But despite its worthlessness as a fort, it was furnished quite well, and clothing was even procured for them.

Half an hour later, Peter emerged from the building clean and refreshed, no longer filled with the weariness of the battle. Looking around him, he found Sairah standing close by, her expression distant but glad as she looked up at the sky. It was sunset.

He said nothing, but walked to her and entwined his fingers with hers, feeling her soft skin against his rough hands, and looking into her eyes. There was no need for words in that simple moment, as they held each other's gazes and relished in the peace that they both felt. In spite of her knowledge of what was to come, Sairah could feel nothing but gladness, and it was a few minutes before either of them spoke.

"Aslan has called us all to a clearing in the woods," she said. "It is a bit farther off from the town."

"Let us go, then," he said, his manner of speech reminiscent of the days when he had battled against Giants and struck deals with Kings.

They walked in silence; but it was not an awkward silence. There were simply no words for that moment, as they felt the soft dying warmth of the sun as it set on the horizon, and they felt the gentle breeze against their faces.

The Narnians had gathered in a clearing, their spirits festive and joyful as they celebrated their victories. Aslan sat to one side, with Lucy sitting comfortably beside Him as He spoke to those who came to him. Close by sat Susan, watching the trees as they danced in a circle in the middle of the clearing, preparing the fire, even as the Red Dwarves waited, tinderboxes in their hands. Doctor Cornelius was speaking to Caspian, who had arrived only a few seconds after Peter and Sairah, and Edmund sat farther away, conversing animatedly with some fauns.

"I would like to speak to Caspian," said Peter, turning to Sairah.

"Go, then," she replied with a smile. "I must talk to your sister. I will come for you later."

He chuckled and walked away, even as the fire started with a low roar, illuminating the clearing with bright orange light. Everyone came to sit or stand around the fire, and Sairah watched with surprise as she recognized Bacchus, Silenus and the Maenads, dancing their wild dances as they were wont to do, summoning a banquet so exquisite that it even made Sairah hungry. But she would eat later; her feet were leading her towards Susan, who looked up and smiled at her as Sairah sat at her side.

"It is a wonderful night."

"Yes," said Susan, hugging her knees to her chin as they watched the flames dance around the dry wood in the middle of the clearing. "How are you, Sairah? It's been so long…honestly, I didn't think you would still be here."

"Yes, it has been very long. More than a thousand years. I am well; for you have returned and so has Aslan. Narnia is at peace once more."

"It was really weird for us, coming back, I mean," said Susan, grimacing slightly as she remembered. "Everything was so different…and it was only a year for us."

"Narnia changed, as all worlds must," said Sairah. "For us it came gradually, though the shock of your disappearance was very great. It was some hundred years after you left that we first learned of the humans that had gone to live in the Land of Telmar, that had been unpopulated for a long time…I believe there was said to be a curse there, or something along those lines. Nevertheless, they prospered, and though they were friendly to Narnia and we were friendly to them, hoping them to become as good allies to us as Archenland was, they became much too powerful and betrayed us."

"The destruction of Cair Paravel," breathed Susan, her expression sad.

"Yes. It was so sudden we could hardly defend ourselves, and the persecution of the Narnians began. We were forced to run, and it was a few years after this that many of us fell into deep sleep." Sairah sighed. "But we should not dwell on the dark things of the past, now. Tell me of how you came to Narnia, this time."

So Susan told her of the horn and the magic that had pulled them back from the train station, and how they came to recognize the ruins as their old palace. She explained how they met Trumpkin, and all the adventures that followed. Sairah listened in silence, full of wonder, as she heard about Aslan's magic and how He had saved many people. Susan had always been a good storyteller, and though they had not been the kind of friends that were always together, they had always had a good relationship.

"That was quite impressive," said Sairah, after the other girl had finished her story.

Susan laughed a little and shrugged, not knowing what to say. They sat peacefully side by side, watching the others.

Peter joined his brother even as Clodsley Shovel and another mole came to Edmund and offered him a dish of something that looked like chocolate. He stared at it in surprise.

"Pardon me," he said hesitatingly to the mole. "What is that?"

Clodsley appeared to smile, and brought the dish closer to them. "This is an earth, Your Majesties," he said. "The richest we could find. Quite delicious, if you don't mind me saying so."

Glancing around, Peter saw Lucy and a few others watching in amusement. "No thank you, master mole," he said courteously. "I am rather full."

Edmund, however, was staring at the earth with interest. "Couldn't hurt to try," he muttered, for Peter's ears only. His older brother shrugged, grinning slightly, and Edmund had a thin slice of what looked like chocolate cake.

The moles watched expectantly as King Edmund the Just chewed slowly, and swallowed.

"Delicious, thank you," said Edmund with a bright smile, and Clodsley Shovel and his fellows walked away to offer some earths to the trees.

Edmund discreetly left the rest of the cake between some ferns. "It tastes ghastly," he said with a grimace.

Peter laughed. "Well, they did tell you what it was, you know. You didn't _have_ to eat it."

"It _looked_ good enough," said Edmund, still grimacing.

Even as the trees became rather tipsy on the wine and became quite talkative, gliding from here to there and entertaining everyone at Aslan's feast, Peter came to Sairah once more and they walked away quietly, unseen by the others.

Their hands found each other and their fingers intertwined themselves in a firm yet tender grasp. Sairah smiled at Peter and soon they found themselves at the edge of the river.

The moonlight made the rippling waters look positively magical as they sat together, their feet almost touching the water as they hung over the bank.

"Listen," said Sairah in a soft voice, looking at the water.

Peter remained silent and listened. Slowly he became aware of a strange melody that seemed to be coming from the water itself; a low, beautiful yet slightly unnatural music, that made his heart grow warm. It sounded like a song of praise, love and joy. With wide and shining eyes, he turned to look at Sairah in askance.

"My sisters," she said, her lips curled in a smile. "They have awakened, and they sing in praise to Aslan."

He let out a low laugh of wonder. "I've heard something similar the night after our coronation…but nothing like this."

"That is because this time we have more to be glad of. We have five kings and queens, rather than four, and we celebrate many more victories; we have won both Narnia and our freedom, and my sisters are glad to be awake once more."

"It's beautiful," he said.

They were silent again, listening to the melody, and Peter felt her head on his shoulder. Their hands were still clasped, and both wore smiles on their faces.

But presently, she spoke.

"Peter?"

"Yes?"

"What is your world like?"

He turned his head to look at her in surprise, and she lifter her head from his shoulder, meeting his eyes. She had never asked him such a question; for some reason they had never spoken of his world and where he came from…they had both always felt more comfortable speaking of Narnia. But now her eyes were serious, and he knew he had to give her an answer.

"Why do you wish to know?" he asked.

"I am interested," she said. "It is the world that birthed you, and though I have heard of other worlds beside our two, yours is the only one I can find out about. Please, tell me. Is it much like Narnia?"

Peter was silent for a moment, and turned his gaze back to the shimmering waters of the river. "Somewhat," he answered. "There are parts like Narnia…trees, rivers, oceans, mountains, hills…but we don't have Talking Beasts or Walking Trees, or Naiads and River Gods, or Giants and Marsh-wiggles and Dwarves. Only humans and normal dumb animals. Rather boring, really," he concluded with a short laugh.

Sairah smiled slightly. "But it must still be beautiful," she said. "Are there cities?"

Peter snorted. "Oh, yes…there are _many_ cities. And ugly ones, too…dirty and uncared for. Our cities are of stone, and people have hearts of stone there, too; I suppose that in our world we don't have Aslan to teach us what to do. It's like humans have forgotten that our world is the only world we have and they've stopped caring about it altogether. We have too many wars and too many fights among ourselves. Nothing is peaceful, like here."

"We are not always peaceful, Peter," she replied after a moment. "We also have our own fair share of wars and fights among ourselves. Narnia is not paradise. You, of all people, should know that."

"But Narnia is full of love…you can _feel _it in everything."

"Yes, but Narnia is still a young world, while yours must be an older one. And Aslan _must_ be there…Aslan is in everything; He crosses the portals between the worlds, does He not?"

"I have never seen Him there," said Peter.

Sairah frowned. "Then your world must be a sad one indeed." They were silent, deep in their thoughts, and many minutes later she spoke again. "But were you not happy there? Have you no family besides your brother and sisters?"

"Yes, I have my mother and father," said Peter.

"Tell me about them," said Sairah, and some of the sorrow left her expression.

"Well…my mother is a very caring person, very loving and hardworking in everything she does. My father is a kind and intelligent man…he was a soldier, once."

"They sound very nice," she said. "What else is there in your world?"

"Schools…" said Peter. "…though they're rather annoying, but I suppose all schools are." He chuckled. "We study a lot of things, and _everyone_ has to go to them. We have telephones, trains and watches…but I don't really know how to explain what they are, so I won't bother."

Sairah laughed. "Your world is interesting," she said. "Like Narnia, and yet unlike it. Are you happy there?"

Peter frowned questioningly. "Why are you asking me all of these questions?"

"You know all about my world; you are its King! But I know nothing of yours, and that is hardly fair," she finished, with a laugh.

"I suppose you're right," Peter admitted. "And…I guess I'm happy. But I'm happier in Narnia, I think."

Sairah nodded, and smiled slightly.

"Did you speak to Aslan?" asked Peter.

"Yes," she said, and Peter did not expect her to say anything more, because they both knew that conversations with Aslan were conversations that went deeper than any other…they were not things one spoke about with others.

"I wish I didn't come from another world," said Peter.

"Why?" exclaimed Sairah in surprise.

"You suffered for more than a thousand years because I left you without even fulfilling my promise…you know I was going to speak with you," he said.

"Yes," she sighed. "But you must love your world as much as you love Narnia."

"Oh, I do!" said Peter. "It just is a bit of a nuisance sometimes."

"Do not worry," said Sairah. "It is moments like this one that makes the waiting worth it."

He smiled, and touched her cheekbone lightly with his fingers, tracing the side of her face, his eyes examining hers, and she reached forwards to bring him closer, feeling his body against hers and drowning herself in the beauty of his gaze, before their lips connected in a soft kiss.

"I was going to ask you to marry me, you know," he whispered as they separated slightly, their faces still close together, noses almost touching. "But I suppose it's too late now…or too early."

Something both painful and wonderful lit Sairah's heart, but she said only, "Perhaps," for she knew that Aslan did not mean to keep them together for much longer, and she also knew that Peter could feel that in his heart even as she looked into his eyes.

"Maybe someday," he murmured, placing an arm around her waist to bring her as close as possible. Sairah smiled, her eyes bright with a mixture of many feelings.

"I love you," she whispered against his lips, not quite kissing him.

"I love you," he echoed, and then their lips were connected, a fire in both their hearts that seemed to hurt as well as warm them, both passionate and tender.

**A/N:** Please, please, please leave a review! I didn't revise this for any typos so feel free to point out any mistakes, and whether you liked or didn't like this chapter.

As far as I can see, there are just 2 chapters left for this story….wow.


	10. Five days

**Disclaimer: Everything except Sairah and her story is property of C.S. Lewis**

He rolled over even as he awoke, the Sun hitting his eyelids.

Sighing softly, Peter untangled his arms from the sheets and brought them to his face, rubbing his eyes twice before opening them and blinking a few times, adjusting his sight to the bright light of the Sun that seeped through the gap between the curtains on the window opposite his bed.

"Finally! You're awake."

Startled at the sound of the amused voice, Peter realized that Sairah was sitting at his side, her legs folded beneath her on the bed and an amused expression on her face.

"You are here," he said, grinning at her and drawing a hand through his tousled hair.

"I grew tired of waiting for you," she said, though she looked the complete opposite of annoyed. "You have things to do, you know."

Peter sat up, leaning his back against the pillows and bringing his legs from under the sheets to cross them in front of him. He liked his bedroom in Caspian's castle; though it was not nearly as beautiful as the one he had had in Cair Paravel. It had a fireplace beside the large and richly covered bed, a wardrobe with strange carvings of unknown people and a bookstand that was filled with books that though rather boring, were different enough from the books he was used to reading to be fun to look through.

"What things to do?" he argued, absentmindedly rubbing Sairah's cold fingers with his as they rested on the coverlet. "We have already done everything that was necessary. Caspian is King and everyone loves him, and all the diplomatic details either have already been settled or are scheduled to be settled in a few months. I have a right to sleep late after helping Narnia," he added cheekily, teasing her.

She pretended to be bothered by the carefree remark, but they both knew she was not. In a few seconds her pursed lips had become a smile, and rolled her eyes shortly. "Very well, have it as you will, but it is nearly midday and Edmund should be returning from hunting soon. There will be a delicious feast."

Peter wanted to roll his eyes also, knowing that Edmund had slept late for the past two days and chose to go hunting the only day Peter chose to sleep late, almost making him look bad.

Four days had passed since the victory in the clearing by Beruna. The Narnians had spent them celebrating and becoming more comfortable, enjoying food and supplies that they had been deprived of in the past. The Telmarines were becoming accustomed to the Talking Beasts, dwarves, fauns and other creatures, though it was still normal to occasionally hear a scream or a startled exclamation from the people that lived in the city. Caspian, the Pevensies, Sairah and many others that had been with them had left Beruna the day following the battle and had gone to the capital to get settled in the castle. Already Caspian was beginning to make preparations for the restoration of Cair Paravel, knowing its importance. Aslan had disappeared for the time being, but they did not worry, because as Lucy said, "Aslan comes and goes as he will...we just have to trust Him."

"All right," said Peter. "I will get up." Sairah watched him in silence as he got out of bed and went to the wardrobe, looking through his clothes for something to wear.

"I will leave you to dress," said Sairah as he turned, and she got on her feet. There was something heartwarming about watching Peter get up; perhaps it was the fact that it was so very _ordinary_, and did not make her feel that there would be an ending to having him with her. "I will meet you in the hall."

"Wait," said Peter even as she crossed the room and had her hand on the door. He walked towards her swiftly and brought her to him, kissing her softly. She smiled, savoring the moment, and his expression mirrored hers. "What do we have planned for today?" Their faces were still together, their noses touching.

"Susan and Lucy have planned to visit one of the towns nearby," she murmured against his jaw as his arms wrapped around her body. "and it is built over the place the fauns used to dance on in the old days, before the trees were felled. They wanted you to go with them."

"Oh," he said, smiling, as they parted. "That will be nice."

As soon as she left the room, he changed. The Telmarine clothes were not as comfortable as his clothes had been in the Golden Age, but they were good enough, and better than the ones he was used to wearing in England. He found a tray of some unknown kind of bread on a low table by the window, and ate a piece for breakfast even as he left his bedroom and made his way down the staircase that led to the main hallway.

He nearly crashed into Lucy.

"Oh! There you are...I was looking for you," she said, after her initial surprise. His sister was wearing a bright smile that lit up her face beautifully. Peter was still surprised at how Narnia managed to make them look older in no time. "Aslan's back."

"Really?" said Peter, and instantly felt delight in his heart.

"Yes," she replied. "And He sent me to tell you and Susan that He wants to speak with you tomorrow morning before we leave for Beruna again."

"What about?"

"I don't know," said Lucy, shrugging. "He didn't tell me. And now I remember...Edmund's back from hunting, and he wants to show off his catch. It _is_ rather big, though. You should come see, Peter."

"I will," he said, though surprised at the fact that Aslan wanted to speak to only him and Susan, and not to the other two. He thought he could see Sairah by the door, going towards where the hunters were. Lucy took his arm and hurried him in the same direction as he chewed on the last of the piece of bread he had had for breakfast.

"Quite a catch, isn't it, brother?" said Edmund, coming towards him with a grin. "Of course, not nearly as big as the one we got with Corin that time, but close enough to be magnificent."

Peter turned to look at the huge boar that was being half-dragged, half-carried by three men and three dwarves towards the kitchens.

"It is rather impressive," he said appraisingly. "Good job, Ed."

Edmund flushed almost unnoticeably, not used to being praised by his brother. "I have to go wash," he said. "I'll see you at lunch." Grinning, he departed.

* * * * * * * *

Sairah slept at the castle that night, and when morning came she was not the last to appear. The Sun had been up for only two hours, and yet while she knew for a fact that Edmund was asleep, she did not know where Peter or Susan were. Walking through the silent corridors, she searched for them, but did not find them. It was nearly half an hour later that she encountered Lucy deep in conversation with a pair of fauns as they sat on a terrace with mugs of some hot liquid in their hands.

"Hello," said Sairah, coming to stand beside Lucy's chair. The fauns looked up, still laughing at something one of them had said, and Lucy grinned at Sairah.

"Good morning," she said cheerfully. "If you are looking for Peter, then I don't know where he is...I can't find him or Susan. But I suppose they will appear soon; I think they are speaking to Aslan."

A strange feeling shot through Sairah's heart at her words, though she did not know exactly what it was or why it had come. She ignored it, however, and came to sit beside the fauns, listening to Lucy recounting many tales from long ago, when the Pevensies had ruled Narnia. Though Sairah had lived through these times, and heard many different variations of the same legend, it was a wonderful thing to listen to Lucy, who had always had a talent for story telling.

By the time the young queen had finished her recount of the Third Crowning of the King of Archenland, an hour had passed, and the Sun had become warmer. That afternoon, everyone in Caspian's court, including the Pevensies, would follow Aslan to the Fords of Beruna, where He would send the Telmarines who did not wish to remain in Narnia somewhere else. They were all rather excited, and soon the sounds of hurried footsteps filled the castle. Lucy, Sairah and the fauns left the terrace, entering the castle once more with different purposes.

Edmund was up, Sairah observed, as she looked around the main hall, searching for Peter. There was no sign of Aslan, but no one expected Him to meet them within the castle itself. They would be leaving in an hour, for it was a journey of considerable length to Beruna. There was also talk of a feast that night, in the same city, so many creatures ran from here to there making preparations, while others hurried to change their clothes or find their steeds.

Sairah spotted Caspian towards one side, speaking to Trufflehunter as they slowly walked towards the door. Deciding that Peter was not within the caste walls, Sairah walked out into the courtyard, where there were less people than inside. Involuntarily, a smile appeared on her face as she enjoyed the soft breeze of the morning.

Even as she came to stand behind a stone pillar, she spotted him. He was walking in from outside, following Susan, who has already half way through the courtyard and was hurrying towards the castle itself. Sairah knew that he had seen her, because he checked his pace and changed direction. She could see his somber expression as he walked towards her, and it made her shiver, though the breeze was warm. Her smile left her lips and she stood silently, watching him come closer.

He said nothing when he reached her; he merely reached out and wrapped his arms around her waist, bringing her to his body and burying his face in her neck. Sairah instantly felt the profound sadness in him, and it filled her with pain, a foreboding feeling rising in her heart. She clung to him as he did to her, and they stood in that manner for a few seconds before he pulled away, swallowing and looking into her eyes with sadness.

"I spoke to Aslan," said Peter.

Sairah said nothing, watching him with her heart beating violently in her heart.

His eyes left hers and he stared at the floor, as if he could not bring himself to look at her. "We're leaving."

The words hit her like a cascade of cold water, falling one after another and chilling her to the bone, though she realized later that she had known what he was going to say the minute she had seen him return. And when she spoke, her voice sounded hollow in her ears, as if spoken by somebody else.

"When?"

"Today, along the Telmarines that Aslan is taking. And..." he hesitated, as if bracing himself. "Sairah, we're not coming back."

She was cold. Ice cold. So cold that she was numb, and could only hear the erratic beat of her heart, and her shallow breath as she met his eyes and read the truth in them.

"I mean, Susan and I aren't returning. That much is for sure." Peter's expression was contorted with pain, his hands clutching at hers with a force that might have hurt her if she had been able to feel anything aside from sadness and desperation. "I'm so sorry, Sairah. I wish it didn't have to be like this, but it's what He said."

And she found herself nodding, suddenly overcome by a strange wave of resignation, knowing that this was what Aslan had meant. Peter did not belong in Narnia; not forever, and not with her. He was bound to his own world as much as she was to her own, and even love could not keep them together forever. She felt his clutch on her hands and she said nothing, only closed her eyes tightly and buried her face in his chest. He let go of her hands, holding her against him tightly, like he was afraid someone would tear her away from him. She was not sure if she was crying, but she could feel her heart breaking, and she immersed herself in the pain and the sadness of the situation because she knew that she would have to be strong when they said goodbye.

After what seemed an eternity, she pulled away and looked at him. There were tears in his eyes, but his expression was as strong as it had always been. He reached up to caress her face, and they stared at each other in silence.

"Peter!"

He looked over his shoulder swiftly, tearing his eyes away from hers, and in the distance they could see Edmund, beckoning them.

"It is time to leave," said Sairah, breaking the silence between them, and he turned to look at her. There was a slight, sad smile on her face, but it unnerved him. Behind the smile was the same expression that had haunted him: the face he had seen many days ago, when she had looked through the door of the chamber of the Stone Table and called Caspian, not knowing that he and Edmund were there: an expression of utter loneliness.

**Review, please! I'll have the next chapter up very soon…I've already written it :D**


	11. Doorway

**A/N: This is the last chapter. There will be an epilogue, of course, but this is the last **_**real**_** chapter. O.O I am kind of freaked out that it's ending…this is my first multichaptered fic that I'm going to finish!**

**Anyway, I hope you enjoy :)**

**Disclaimer: Once more, I own nothing other than Sairah and the subplots that arise because of her.**

The journey felt short. Much too short. For Peter, Susan and Sairah time seemed to pass by in a blur, as if it purposefully went faster. The only thing that comforted Sairah was the bright golden figure of the Lion as He walked gracefully in front of them, His mane shining in the sunlight. Occasionally, her eyes would meet Peter's clear, anguished ones, but she knew that his anguish was not so much his own pain, but more the reflection of her own in his eyes. Something made her think that while it saddened him to leave Narnia, he was not utterly terrorized by the prospect. It was not like Aslan to send someone away cruelly.

Around her, everyone was cheerful, and even Peter and Susan seemed glad, for it was their last day, and it was a day to be remembered. Often, his hand would meet Sairah's and clench it tightly, though they might not look into each other's eyes. They had silent understanding.

Two hours later, they arrived at the Ford. Already, a great group of Telmarines was assembled there, some fidgeting nervously, their wide eyes falling on Aslan with a mixture of awe, love and terror. The glade had been arranged after Aslan's orders, and at the end of it stood what looked like a wooden doorway that stood alone, from nowhere into nowhere. Everyone but Aslan and a few others stared at it with puzzlement for a few seconds, but then Aslan Himself had come to stand in front of it, flanked by Peter and Caspian. Around them stood Susan and Lucy, Trumpkin and Trufflehunter, the Lord Cornelius, Glenstorm, Sairah, Reepicheep and many others, all dressed in beautiful clothes that had been prepared especially for that occasion.

The Telmarines stood facing them, and the rest of the Old Narnians that had come stood a bit farther off, watching eagerly.

When Aslan spoke, all eyes fell on Him, drowning in the beauty of His voice, utterly enraptured.

"Men of Telmar," He said, "you who seek a new land, hear my words. I will send you all to your own country, which I know and you do not."

Murmurs rose among the Telmarines. "We don't remember Telmar...We don't know where it is...We don't know what it is like..."

"You came into Narnia out of Telmar, but you came into Telmar from another place," said Aslan. "You do not belong in this world at all. You came hither, certain generations ago, out of the same world to which the High King Peter belongs."

Startled, Peter turned to look at Aslan in surprise. He had not told them that, and it was rather exciting to know that there had been others, like them. Susan, Edmund and Lucy wore similar expressions, and Sairah's eyes met his with wide surprise, while Caspian and Lord Cornelius stared at Aslan in awe.

"You, Sir Caspian," said Aslan, after calming the Telmarines. "Might have known that you could be no true King of Narnia unless, like the Kings of old, you were a son of Adam and came from the world of Adam's sons. And so you are. Many years ago in that world, in a deep sea of the world which is called the South Sea, a shipload of pirates was driven by storm on an island. And there they did as pirates would: killed the natives and took the native women for wives, and made palm wine, and drank and were drunk, and lay in the shade of the palm trees, and woke up and quarreled, and sometimes killed one another. And in one of these frays six were put to flight by the rest and fled with their women into the center of the island and up a mountain, and went, as they thought, into a cave to hide. But it was one of the magical places of that world, one of the chinks or chasms between that world and this. There were many chinks or chasms between worlds in old times, but they have grown rarer. This was one of the last: I do not say _the_ last. And so they fell, or rose, or blundered, or dropped right through, and found themselves in this world, in the Land of Telmar which was unpeopled. But why it was unpeopled is a long story: I will not tell it now. And in Telmar their descendants lived and became a fierce and proud people; and after many generations there was a famine in Telmar and they invaded Narnia, which was then in some disorder (but that also would be a longs story)," at this remark, Peter saw Sairah wince slightly, and almost made note to ask her about it later before realizing that there _would_ _be no_ later. "And conquered and ruled it. Do you mark all this well, King Caspian?"

After this tale, and a few comments by Caspian, who was reflecting on this new information, Aslan spoke to the Telmarines, offering them a chance to live in the world that their forefathers had once inhabited, but that was now empty. There was silence, and then, suddenly, a young burly man stepped out from among the others and said that he would go.

They watched him in silence, as the now slightly pale man was blessed by the Lion, and after squaring his shoulders, disappeared through the Door.

There was a second of surprise, and then the Telmarines burst out, overcome by fear.

"What's happened to him? Do you mean to murder us?"

And then another one spoke up, "We don't see any other world through those sticks. If you want us to believe in it, why doesn't one of _you_ go? All your friends are keeping well away from the sticks."

The very second the Telmarine finished speaking, Reepicheep jumped forward, bowing. "If _my_ example can be of any service, Aslan," he said elegantly. "I will take eleven mice through that arch at your bidding without a moment's delay."

Laying his paw gently on the mouse's head, Aslan spoke. "Nay, little one. They would do dreadful things to you in that world. They would show you at fairs. It is others who must lead."

And though Aslan did not look at them, Peter knew that it was time.

"Come on," he said to Edmund and Lucy, after meeting Susan's gaze. "Our time's up."

"What do you mean?" asked Edmund, utterly at loss.

"This way," said Susan, following Peter as they left the glade and walked into the woods. "Back into the trees. We've got to change."

"Change what?"

Peter sighed, his lips pressed into a firm line as he fully realized what was about to happen. His eyes met his sister's, and she smiled encouragingly, though the smile was somber.

Sairah was silent as she watched the Pevensies walk into the forest. All the others, except for Aslan, watched after them, very confused, but Aslan stopped Trufflehunter from going to retrieve them. Sairah herself could guess what they were doing, and her heart contorted painfully.

They returned only a few minutes later, dressed in strange clothing that earned them jeers from the Telmarines, but to Sairah they looked just as majestic as if they had been wearing robes of golden thread. A cheer rose up from among the Narnians, and they celebrated the honor and the glory of the four Kings and Queens. They were smiling, but they were also sad, as were all their friends, and one could see it in their eyes: the mixture of extreme joy and extreme sadness.

Peter embraced Caspian as he would with a brother, and they shook hands tightly, grinning at each other. They had established a fast friendship in the few days they had spent together. Then Peter kissed the Talking Beasts, as a High King would, and he shook hands or hugged the dwarves, speaking his appreciation for their efforts and their sacrifices in the battle.

And then he turned to Sairah, who stood silent, rooted on the spot, her eyes wide and dark as she stared at him. And Peter did not care that they stood in the eyes of many as he hurried to her and kissed her with more passion than he ever had, savoring every millisecond, drowning himself in her beauty, because she was the one thing that it truly hurt to lose.

The kiss was short, but it was intense, and when they pulled away to look at each other they could see pure, unmarred love in each other's eyes. He brought his hand up to hold her face in his, and she closed her eyes tightly, as if she was trying to memorize the moment, burn it into her memory.

"I love you," she whispered, her voice breaking with every syllable.

"I love you," he said simply, examining every inch of her face with his eyes. He wanted to remember her for as long as he lived.

She opened her eyes, and they shone deep green like the depths of the river. "Peter," she said, her voice low so that no one else would hear. "Will you be all right?"

Peter paused for a moment before answering. "Yes," he said. "I will. Will you?"

She smiled a smile of tears and love. "As well as I have always been, I hope. But Peter, promise me...you will be joyful."

And he knew what she was telling him; to not remember her if it would bring him sorrow, and to have a future of his own. She was telling him that he should forget her if necessary, and find a new life, and a new woman, in his own world. She was telling him to take every chance he got.

His eyes were dark with pain, and he hugged her tightly, burying his face in her hair. "I will," he whispered, but she heard the love in his voice and it did not hurt her. It made her stronger.

But it was time to part, and he moved reluctantly, touching his fingers to her cheek for one last fleeting moment before he separated himself from her. "I love you, Sairah," he said, and though she did not reply with words, he knew what her heart was saying.

Aslan breathed on Peter, and the High King of Narnia walked away to stand in line along with his siblings and the men of Telmar, to return to his own world.

His eyes met hers in one last second, and she saw the man he had become; strong, brave, fierce in battle, but gentle, kind and compassionate in his heart. He was strong in every way and his soul was a beautiful one, matured beyond the limitations of his body. He was an adult in the body of a boy, and he would always be the High King, even in his own world.

And then, in the blink of an eye, he was gone.

She said nothing, and stood still and silent as a statue, watching the now empty doorway. The other Narnians stared at it also, but it was many seconds after they had begun to move away that she reacted, turning her eyes full of desperation to the glowing figure of Aslan.

Never before had she seen such sadness in His eyes. Her heart nearly broke once more as she saw the deep pits of pain that almost seemed deeper than her own. Sairah was quiet, her eyes fixed on His.

"My Child," said Aslan, and His breath enveloped her. She was able to move once more.

When she spoke, her voice sounded hollow.

"Will I ever see him again?" she asked, her voice a whisper, but the Lion heard.

"Not in this world," He answered.

And turning her eyes towards the ground, the Daughter of the River God turned and walked away to the waters from where she had come, where tears merged with river water.

**And that's the ending…again, there will be an epilogue, which I have a pretty clear idea about and will be posted shortly. The more reviews I get, the more inspiration I get!**

**Love you all and thanks for your awesome support!**


	12. Epilogue: part 1: Heartbeat

**A/N: Announcement: There will be one more chapter! This is part 1 of the epilogue. Yes, I know I said there would only be one more chapter but I began to write this one and it just became longer and longer….and I realized that it would be best to split it in half. Part 2 will be posted shortly, as soon as I finish it. Thank you so much for your encouraging reviews; they certainly gave me inspiration to write faster.**

**Disclaimer: All you recognize is property of C.S. Lewis. **

The breeze was cold that night.

They stood as still as statues, their backs pressed against the side of the stable, just out of the view of the crowd. Sairah's wet hair hung around her face in a dark curtain, her cold fingers fastened around a bow. Beside her, Tirian was silent, watching the spectacle the Calormene were creating in front of the Narnian crowd.

Her breath came out in short, quiet gasps, unknown to the others. On her left side stood Eustace and Jill, their young faces pale but brave in the faint firelight that came from the bonfire. Sairah was reminded of four other young faces that she had grown to love so long ago, who had had the exact same expression.

But there was a difference; there was a difference in everything.

Sairah silently reached up to touch her shoulder, where the ugly gash she had suffered only a day before in Cair Paravel still exposed her flesh under the bandages. It was sore, but she would have to learn to bear it. She had not had time to go to the river, and either way it would have been impossible, since the Calormene now held the river as their own, to destroy as they wished.

She glanced at Tirian. The young king was focused on the sight in front of him, and Sairah felt pity for him. Despite their efforts to convince themselves of the contrary, they all knew that this was the end.

This would be the end of Narnia as they knew it.

"_Are you afraid?" _she had asked Tirian only a few hours ago as they crouched in the shadow of a clump of holly trees, waiting for the right time to leave.

_The King looked up at her from where he was. A bit farther off, Eustace and Jill lay asleep, while Farsight stood on a branch, asleep also. Poggin the dwarf sat beside Puzzle, and they spoke in hushed voices, facing away from the rest. Jewel was silent, his eyes closed, though it was not clear whether or not he was asleep._

"_Yes," said Tirian. _

"_Of what?" asked Sairah calmly, sitting on the grass, her dark eyes shining strangely in the moonlight. _

_Tirian smiled, but there was no mirth in the smile. Sairah had always been impressed at the maturity the King displayed, for while his father had been a wise man, it had taken many years for him to become that way. However, Tirian had been wise since he was a child._

_But he was still young, and still weak in many ways._

"_Not of death," he said. "I am afraid for Narnia, because-" and he fell silent, suddenly, unsure whether to continue. _

"_Because you know that we will lose," said Sairah._

_Tirian stared at her for a moment, startled, and then continued. "I do not wish to be the last King of Narnia," he said, "to be the one who allowed it to fall into the hands of the Calormenes, and who was deceived by their lies."_

"_This is your duty, however. It was given to you by Aslan."_

"_For what reason was it given to me?" he asked, his eyes bright and his jaw clenched. It was only now, in the darkness, that he confessed his fears._

_She smiled the smile they had all grown to know; a mixture of pain and sadness that slowly became true emotion. "You are the Test, Tirian," she said. "You are the Sift that will distinguish the Wrong from the Right. You are the Test before the end of the world."_

Sairah saw Jill shiver slightly, but could not know whether it came from the cold or from fear. She said nothing, and the girl remained silent.

Turning her head to look towards the bonfire, the Ape's wheezy words came to her ears, and she suppressed a scowl of disgust at his petulance and dishonesty.

"Yes," the Ape was saying. "At this very moment, when the Terrible One Himself is among us—there in the stable just behind me—one wicked Beast has chosen to do what you'd think no one would dare to do even if _He_ were a thousand miles away. It has dressed itself up in a lion-skin and is wandering about in these very woods pretending to be Aslan."

Horror rose in Sairah's heart as she began to understand the cunning plan of the Calormenes, even as the voices of the Beasts in the audience rose in rage. "Who is he?" they cried.

And the Ape answered: "It was seen last night, but it got away. It's a Donkey! A common, miserable Ass! If any of you see that Ass--"

But the rest of his words were drowned out in the growls of the Beasts, who were full of murderous rage. Sairah's wide eyes turned to meet the horrified ones of the others. Revealing Puzzle would do no good now; they would only be confirming the allegations of the Ape, and condemning the Donkey to death by the other Beasts.

"That's taken the wind out of our sails," whispered Eustace hoarsely.

"The ground is taken from under our feet," said Tirian.

"Cursed, cursed cleverness!" said Poggin angrily. "I'll be sworn that this new lie is of Ginger's making."

Even as they stood in horrified silence, now utterly at loss, not knowing what they should do, the audience was chaos. The Calormene made many fierce moves to bring the Beasts to silence again, only to hear the words of the Ape.

It soon became apparent that the Dwarves would not fight for either party. Rishda Tarkaan was beside himself in rage, but still their plan was taken forward.

The second Sairah saw Ginger run out of the stable, so afraid that he lost his Talking Voice, she was confused as she had never been before.

"Never in my life have I seen such a thing," she whispered, and watched in horrible fascination as the events unfolded. Tirian, she could see, was debating with himself if it was time to rush upon the Calormenes or not. She said nothing; it was not her decision.

And then the Calormene man, Emeth, walked out from the crowd, saying he wished to see whatever was in the stable for himself.

"Bear witness all that I am guiltless of this young fool's blood. Get thee in, rash boy, and make haste," said Rishda Tarkaan, his dark eyes seeming even darker.

Proudly, Emeth made his way towards the door of the stable without hesitation. When he reached it, he opened the door and disappeared into the darkness, closing the door behind him. And then, suddenly, the door flew open and the body of a Calormene man fell out, obviously dead.

There was a momentary hush, and then chaos reigned once more.

Rishda Tarkaan hurried forward, and Tirian moved his face away slightly, afraid of being seen. But they all noticed the start in the Tarkaan's dark face as he saw something he did not quite expect. He seemed to hide it, however, and soon was crying out.

"The rash boy has had his will. He has looked on Tash and is dead. Take warning, all of you."

But even as the Beasts nodded and agreed, Tirian and his companions leaned forward, looking at the body that lay on the grass.

The man was most certainly not Emeth.

"What's going on?" muttered Eustace under his breath, and Sairah was thinking something much along the same lines.

And then she saw Tirian straighten, and heard his words.

"Swords out," he whispered to them, drawing his sword with the ringing of metal. "Arrows on string. Follow."

_Caspian sat by the window, brows furrowed slightly, his expression clouded with sorrow. Sairah stood unmovable across from him, her eyes looking beyond Cair Paravel, towards the sea._

"_How do you survive?" said Caspian suddenly, his voice sounding bitter as he pronounced the words slowly. "How have you lived without him for so long?"_

_She said nothing for some time, her expression inscrutable, and then her dark eyes turned to meet the old King's._

"_I learned to accept the fact that he is where he belongs," she said. "And he is happy there. That is all that should matter."_

_Caspian leaned his elbows on the windowsill, his hands buried in his graying hair; a gesture reminiscent of his younger years. "My son has disappeared. I do not know where he is."_

_His voice was low and hoarse, broken by sorrow. Sairah made no move to comfort him, but her eyes watched him with an expression almost of pity._

"_He is under the care of Aslan," she said. "And wherever he is, Aslan will protect him."_

She barely noticed her own hand reaching backwards to draw an arrow from the quiver, fixing it on the bow, drawing the string and holding it taut. Her mind was filled with that strange, ringing awareness of her mind, and yet a numbness in her body as it executed everything to perfection without her realizing it.

Sairah saw Puzzle's bewildered and yet determined expression, Poggin's grim smile as he drew his weapon, Jewel's shining coat gleaming red in the firelight, Farsight's eyes bright and fierce, Jill's pale yet brave expression, Eustace's courage despite his fear, and Tirian's strength, masking the pain she knew he felt. But in that moment, all she felt was the calm knowledge that this would be the place where she would die: fighting for a dying nation, a doomed King and a corrupted land in the name of Aslan, and in the name of the Truth.

"Here stand I, Tirian of Narnia, in Aslan's name, to prove with my body that Tash is a foul fiend, the Ape a manifold traitor, and these Calormenes worthy of death. To my side, all true Narnians. Would you wait till your new masters have killed you all one by one?"

Instantly, many things happened. Firstly, Tirian seized the Ape and threw him into the stable, shutting the door behind him. The ground shook and there was a flash of blinding light. Sairah was still silent, but her mind was racing, unable to understand what was truly happening in the stable. Secondly, Rishda Tarkaan ran farther off, calling fighters to his aid. And thirdly, the Talking Dogs, the Bear, the Boar and many other Beasts joined Tirian's side, though admittedly it was only a very small fraction of those who had previously sat in the audience.

She breathed deeply, closing her eyes for a second, smelling the burning wood, the sweat and the scent of the trees. She was weaker than she should have been for the battle, for she had not been to the river, but she hoped she would be strong enough to fight for some time.

She remembered the battle with the White Witch, the fight against the Giants of the North, and the Battle of Beruna, the last time she had seen Peter Pevensie.

Peter had always been both a great warrior and a magnificent High King. Sairah had seen it countless times; the mercy and the fierceness in his blue eyes as he fought with a determination she had never seen in anyone. Each battle he fought with such courage that it soon became clear to her that he fought for more than his own life or Narnia; he fought for Aslan and his own world, also. There was a dedication he had always had…a dedication she had somehow never been able to rival, though she loved her world dearly. It was one of the things that had impressed her the most about him; the love he had had for everything in Narnia.

And it had been thousands of years since she had last seen him.

"_You want to know, don't you?" asked Lucy, her lips forming a slight smile as she looked at Sairah, who stood beside her._

"_Yes," she said, in a low voice._

_Lucy sighed contentedly, leaning her arms on the side of the ship, her fingers tracing a pattern on the wood. "He's studying a lot now, trying to have the best grades, and maybe get a scholarship…that is, a way to keep studying without having to pay anything," she clarified, realizing that her words would probably be utter gibberish to a Narnian. _

_But Sairah stood silently, saying nothing as they watched the waves on either side of the Dawn Treader. "He told me that when Ed and I came, we should tell you that he loves you and misses you more than ever."_

And then the fight began.

Sairah felt arrow after arrow leave her bow, aimed towards the enemy with precision. She stood beside Jill and wondered what was going through the girl's mind; the first battle is always the worst. But she had no time to think about it, for soon came the Tarkaan's voice, calling for the reformation of his army.

Sairah felt no joy at knowing that they had defeated them in the first attack. Looking towards Tirian, she knew that he did not feel it either.

With the years, Peter had not disappeared from her mind. If anything, he had become the most prominent thing; the constant as time passed by with a velocity that sometimes frightened her. King after King was crowned, King after King died, and Narnia changed in its own manner…nearly imperceptibly to most, but to those that were immortal, quite noticeably.

She had often wondered about him and his life in his own world, and whether or not he was still alive there, for Sairah had not been there when Eustace and Jill had freed Prince Rillian from the Witch, and she had only caught a glimpse of them before they disappeared. However, to see Eustace again, if only for a second, told her that very little time had passed in that other world, and that Peter was still alive.

She had held on to the thought that when Peter died, she would feel it. And she was never quite sure if it brought her hope or desperation. Sairah did not know what she would do if Peter died.

As the years passed, their story had become a legend told about the past, with many facts that were not true, and few people knew Sairah's exact nature or for how long she had been in Narnia. Even the Kings sometimes did not understand how deeply acquainted with Narnia she was.

There was the sound of many arrows flying in the air, but they were not directed at Tirian and his army. They were directed towards the Talking Horses that had been freed and had loyally come to their aid. Not one Horse survived.

Sairah was silent, her eyes filled with sadness. But if it was the end, then sad things were bound to happen.

"_You shall not mock the High King in my presence," she said, her voice stone cold. A shudder went throughout the court._

"_There was no harm meant," said Prince Varian, frowning. "It was merely a joke."_

"_A joke of extreme bad taste," she said coldly. "Of all people you should understand the legacy he and his siblings have left behind them. It is disrespectful to his memory."_

"_But it is the simple truth," said the Prince, oblivious to the warning stares of the captains around him. "There are many legends about the woman he loved and the children she bore for him in secret."_

"_It most certainly is not the truth," she said, her face white and her voice harsh. "King Peter was the most honest King Narnia has ever known. Yes, he loved a woman, but there was no indecency in that."_

"_With all due respect," said Varian, his expression betraying his disbelief. "How would you know?"_

_Sairah laughed coldly. "I am that woman."_

_Saying nothing more, she turned and left the Hall, leaving an astonished Varian behind._

After a discussion with Tirian, in which Sairah barely participated, they took their positions, faces grim and determined. Sairah breathed deeply.

And then, with a cry, the last battle of Narnia began. It was also the last battle of Sairah's life.

She fought with a fierceness she had never felt before. She fought for the bodies that had fallen dead in the first attack and those who had never had the chance to fight at all. She fought for the River God and the naiads, and for the countries beyond Narnia who were still shielded from the Calormenes. She fought for those who had died in the past, and those who were still alive. She fought for Peter. She fought for the Kings of the past, and those that should have been Kings. She fought for Aslan. She fought for Narnia.

Arrow after arrow left her quiver, pointed towards the enemy. Some fell to the ground, and others glanced off armor, but some reached their target. There was a strange energy in Sairah's every move that gave her strength, despite the hopelessness of the situation.

And when the arrows ran out, she slung the bow over her shoulder and drew her dagger, plunging into the fighting mass of Calormenes and loyal Narnians. She could see nothing but the glint of the sword and the hate in the eyes of the enemy. She could feel the blood of those she killed flowing over her hands, and the sting of small wounds. Her shoulder throbbed painfully, but she ignored it.

Suddenly, as she saw the body of a soldier fall dead at her feet, she caught sight of Eustace being pulled towards the stable. _There is nothing I can do about it now_, she told herself, holding back the urge to run to his aid, for she knew that the attempt would be futile and would only serve to get her thrown into the stable as well. Soon after, she saw Jill pulled in the same direction by the hair.

Clenching her jaw, she continued to fight, even after she saw many of her fellow Narnians fall under the blow of the sword, and even after she saw the spears of the new Calormene soldiers. Turning her head as she killed another, she realized that Tirian was gone. And then, at that very second, the ground shook and there was a blinding flash of light once more.

Sairah understood what had happened in that brief second. Tirian had also been taken into the stable.

"_I am leaving, Sairah," said Caspian, his voice sounding hoarse with age._

_She was startled; the first blatant emotion she had expressed in a very long time. Caspian would have been glad, had the circumstances been different, and had time not broken him so badly._

_Sairah hesitated before she spoke, and he had a feeling that she already knew the answer to the question she was about to ask. "Where are you going?"_

"_I wish to visit the islands again," he said. "Find Croakin and the Monopods…the dragon Island…even Deathwater. And old Ramandu once more…" his voice broke. "Though I do not know what I will say to him."_

_He sighed. "I have grown old, and I am sad and lonely here, though I appreciate all efforts to relieve me from this sorrow. I shall leave the kingdom to Trumpkin, and I will leave. It is my hope to see Aslan's land. It is my time now."_

_Sairah was silent, her dark eyes filled with a strange emotion. A strange thrill had gone through her at his words, and her hands clasped each other with fierce strength._

"_I was thinking," said Caspian, coughing slightly; a remainder of the diseases he had suffered in the past. "That perhaps you would like to join me."_

"_Aslan's land?" she asked, and her voice sounded different, almost younger and innocent as Caspian had never heard her. _

_He nodded. _

"_I…" her eyes were unfocused, filled with emotion and deep thoughts. "I will go," she said, finally._

Sairah saw Jewel rear up, and then she could see him no more. For the first time, she felt grief nearly overtake her. The Unicorn had been one of her most loved companions. Holding back her tears, she continued to fight, ignoring the pain of her shoulder as the Calormene surrounded her with swords and spears. She darted in and out with a speed that frightened them, but she knew she was already overtaken.

The end was coming.

And then she saw him. A tall Tarkaan officer, his sword shining red in the flame of the bonfire as he raised it high over his head and brought it down on her. She was looking into his dark eyes as she met the blade with her dagger, and she saw Death in them.

Her dagger broke in four pieces, falling useless at her feet.

Sairah stood immobile and strong as the sword plunged into her chest.

Thud.

Thud.

The beat of her heart as it slowed to a stop.

She fell to the ground, and the soldiers dispersed, looking for a fight elsewhere. Her eyes looked up blindly to the stars, and she could see them smiling down at her.

She wondered if Peter's world had stars, too.

**A/N: *runs away and hides from attacking readers* Please review!**


	13. Epilogue: part 2: Paradise

**Disclaimer: Everything you recognize is property of C.S. Lewis.**

**A/N: The final chapter! I hope it lives up to your expectations! **

**And please keep in mind that the text in italics is a memory from a long time ago.**

"_You fear me, child."_

_She was silent, crouching on the dirt over her dead sister, tears still staining her face and her hands covered in blood. She was shaking._

"_Will you not speak to me, Daughter of the River?"_

_She could feel Aslan's breath; smell the wondrous scent of Him. But she said nothing for a minute, trying to calm herself, her numb and unfeeling hand dropping the dagger to the ground beside the body of the Calormene soldier._

_Sairah took one long, shuddering breath. "Forgive me," she said, her tears dropping onto the ground, her eyes downcast in horror. "Forgive me."_

"_Your words were those of one who has no faith," He said, but there was no anger in his voice; only sorrow._

"_I spoke foolishly; I said what I did not mean." The tears were streaming, her vision blinded by them. She could feel the Lion's gaze on her downcast face._

"_But you did mean it, Sairah," said Aslan. "It came from the depth of your heart."_

_A sob escaped her, a gasping sound in the emptiness of the plains. Her words echoed in her mind, cursing her, mocking her_. Why have you done this to me, Aslan? What have I done? Why have you cursed me in your cruelty, with foolish and useless punishments that serve only to cause pain? I am not grateful.

"_Forgive me, my Lord," she said, her entire body shaking, sobs racking through her body. "I have spoken blasphemy. I know it is not true. I…I know…"_

"_Look at me, my daughter," said Aslan._

_And she looked up into his eyes and saw the pain there, that went deeper than her own pain ever could, crushing her heart in a million pieces out of pity and sorrow. And she knew that what Aslan had done had hurt Him in the same manner it had hurt her._

"_All I do," said Aslan. "Is for a reason."_

_She shuddered at His words, hearing the truth in them, knowing He did not lie. She said nothing, but looked into His eyes of molten gold and hated herself for her utter pettiness._

_And then the Lion engulfed her, and she buried her face in His mane, weeping her pain into the strands of golden light, being comforted by Him. And she knew that He was right._

Thud.

Thud.

Thud.

Sairah opened her eyes, startled.

The sky was abysmal black; so dark she was afraid she might fall into it.

Without thinking, she sat up quickly. It was only then that she realized that she ought to be dead, not sitting up at all.

The ground was dark, but she could feel the dust under her palms as she pushed herself up from the ground. It was then that she noticed that her shoulder no longer ached, and, utterly bewildered, she looked around.

What she saw in that moment was the most astonishing sight she had ever seen.

There were no stars, and all Sairah could see in the sky was a dull red ball that lit nothing at all. The dying Sun. The earth was barren, rocks standing out here and there, but there was nothing more to be seen on it. Far away, Sairah could see waves from the sea crashing against the hills fiercely, and it was then that she saw where the light came from.

There was a huge doorway some way off, standing tall and strong against the fierce and cold winds that blew. And hurrying towards it, and through it, was such a great amount of people that Sairah was astonished. The only light that lit up that strange world that had been Narnia was a great white light that came from beside the doorway.

Even as she drew closer, stumbling over rocks in her haste to reach the doorway, she recognized the light as starlight, and suddenly remembered Ramandu and his tale of the stars. The group of Stars stood swaying slightly, their light so bright that it was nearly blinding to look at them. But few people paid them any heed; all were hurrying towards and through the doorway.

Sairah stepped into the crowd, following them, hardly noticing who or what stood in front of her. A strange feeling of need rose in her heart, and all she desired was to cross through that doorway.

As they drew closer, Sairah realized that the group was dividing in two. One group hurried on into wherever the doorway led, but the other cut itself off entirely, running off only to be swallowed by the darkness.

But soon the reason became apparent, and Sairah sensed it even before she saw Him.

Standing in the doorway, bathed in golden light, stood Aslan, His mane shimmering with a beauty that was more beautiful than anything that existed in any of the worlds. His eyes shone like molten gold that swirled with many secrets, both beautiful and terrible.

Sairah had not seen Aslan in centuries, and nothing can describe the profound relief she felt the moment her eyes met His. Peace instantly filled her, and His scent made her feel like she had finally come home, to where she belonged.

The Lion's eyes smiled at her, and she knelt at His feet even as the crowds hurried past them.

"My daughter," He said in a voice that shook the very ground. "You have done well."

Then, coming to her feet once more, Sairah looked to the world that she knew was dying; the world that had been Narnia.

"What will become of this world?"

Aslan shook His golden mane, and the rays of light engulfed her, while His voice echoed with a power that filled her with both fear and love. "This is the time of the End. This is the time of the Beginning."

"What of my father and my sisters?" she asked.

"They will come through another way, that is not this Door," said Aslan, and then He turned towards the tall figure that used to be Time.

"Now make an end," He said.

And the giant rose and took the red Sun in his mighty fist until all light was extinguished, and the world became cold. And Sairah, for the very first time since she crossed the doorway, noticed that she stood upon a plain of the greenest grass, with flowers all around her, trees and mountains in the distance. The scent of the flowers was sweet, and the fruit that hung from the boughs was ripe. But her eyes did not take in the strangeness of this; instead, her every thought was focused on the world that had been and would soon cease to be, disappearing into an abyss of freezing darkness.

"Peter, High King of Narnia," said Aslan. "Shut the Door."

Sairah froze.

Her eyes turned towards the Door Aslan spoke of, searching desperately for something she did not believe possible. Her heartbeat was so strong that it threatened to shatter her.

And then she saw the tall figure of a man, dressed in the richest Narnian armor that she remembered so well from the Golden Age. Her mind refused to admit that it was him, telling her that it must be a mistake; he could not possibly be present. Not after so much time. Not now. But there was no mistaking his face as he walked towards the Door, drew a golden key from his pocket, and did Aslan's bidding.

Her eyes, unbidden, met the Lion's, and there was a light in them that she had never seen before, or never truly appreciated.

_Your reward, my Daughter_.

Sairah bowed her head, closing her eyes, calming herself. And when she opened them, Aslan was a distant burst of light that shot towards the horizon. But she heard His voice.

"Come further in! Come further up!"

The multitude that stood around the now locked Door began to move, walking in the direction Aslan had gone. But Sairah ignored all this; instead she looked up towards Peter.

His eyes sought hers, and in a second he was hurrying towards her, staring at her as if he could not believe she was real. Peter's hands held her face tenderly, gently, as if he was afraid she might shatter, examining her expression with a hunger she had never seen in him before. But the intensity of his gaze betrayed the love he felt for her, and something exploded within Sairah as their eyes met.

She burst into tears of long wanted relief, throwing her arms around his tall figure, clutching the fabric of his cloak as if at any moment he could disappear. She buried her face in his neck, her tears wetting his cloak, as she smelled his scent and felt the warmth of him. His hands were buried in her dark hair, holding her slight figure against him tenderly but with a strength that demonstrated how much he needed her.

And then her sobs quieted, and slowly she drew away, her face inches away from his. He could feel the warmth of her breath against his face, and he smiled at her. He could see the change in her; the experiences of pain and sorrow she had endured in the past centuries, and something broke within him as he knew how much she had suffered. But Sairah reached up to touch his face gently, her fingers tracing his cheekbones, assuring herself that he was real.

"I missed you," she whispered, her voice weak with tears of relief.

He chuckled shortly, his voice cracking, and she was aware of the warm tears that rolled down his cheeks and into her fingers. "I missed you too," he said, so low she almost did not hear him.

She moved forward slightly, and her thumb ran over his lips slowly. Sairah looked up into his eyes and smiled; the first true smile she could remember showing ever since he had left. And Peter leaned forward even as her finger slid down to his jaw, catching her lips with his in a slow, soft kiss. She sighed against his mouth, and he grinned before they drew away, eyes shining.

"Let us go now," said Sairah after a moment, turning towards the others. "They are waiting."

Grinning widely, Peter turned to see Lucy watching him with an expression of utmost joy through her tears, Edmund looking relieved, Jill slightly shocked, Tirian joyfully surprised and Eustace, watching them with an expression of slight nausea. Behind them stood Lord Digory and Lady Polly, who merely smiled.

Lucy and Edmund hugged Sairah like she was their sister, and Sairah said nothing about Susan's absence; only Peter saw the slightly heartbroken look in her eyes as she turned away, still smiling.

The Sun, that was new and yet familiar, shone brightly upon their figures as they continued walking. Below their feet was a soft carpet of grass, greener than any grass they had ever seen, and their footsteps were almost completely silent. From ahead they could hear laughter and joyful voices as the Narnians followed Aslan, not knowing where they went, but so full of joy that they did not care. Everyone was smiling or laughing.

"So," he said, "night falls on Narnia. What, Lucy!" he added in surprise, noticing the tears that fell down his sister's face. "You're not _crying_? With Aslan ahead, and all of us here?"

"Don't try to stop me, Peter," said Lucy, turning to look at him pointedly. Peter was aware of the marks that his own tears had left on his face, though they had been born from an entirely different reason. "I am sure Aslan would not. I am sure it is not wrong to mourn for Narnia. Think of all that lies dead and frozen behind that door."

"Yes and I _did _hope," said Jill, "that it might go on forever. I knew _our_ world couldn't. I did think Narnia might."

"I saw it begin," said the Lord Digory. "I did not think I would live to see it die."

"Sirs," said Tirian. "The ladies do well to weep. See, I do so myself. I have seen my mother's death. What world but Narnia have I ever known? It were no virtue, but great discourtesy, if we did not mourn."

"The days of old have come to a close," said Sairah, and her eyes met Tirian's for the briefest of moments, remembering their conversation before the battle, that seemed as if it had taken place many ages ago. "Now is the time of the new beginning."

Many days later, or what seemed to count as days in a land that had no time of its own, and where everything could be done at any time, for everyone lived free and joyful, Sairah and Peter found themselves walking on the bank of the new river. It was identical to the river Sairah had been from, and it was where her family was living, but the beauty was greater, the water more magical under the low Sun. It was the afternoon, and they had left the Castle to walk on their own.

They had spent the past days relishing in the company of old friends. Peter in particular had spent much time speaking to his old hunting companions from the Golden Age, while Sairah renewed her friendship with many of the Kings of old, along with many of the dryads, hamadryads and Talking Beasts. The River God himself had appeared as Aslan had promised, along with the Naiads, and neither Sairah nor Peter had ever felt that they were home as much as they did in that new land. And above all else, their hearts were full of joy at their new understanding of who Aslan was, and what He was.

But in spite of all this, that afternoon found them walking beside the river, hand in hand.

"I never dreamed that something like this could happen," said Sairah in a low voice, as if she was afraid to disturb the perfection around her.

"Neither did I," said Peter, his voice as low as hers. "And it is still hard for me to believe that I am, to those from my world, dead."

Sairah grimaced slightly. "That idea still makes me rather uneasy."

He chuckled. "Yes, me too," he said. "But if I was not dead, then I would not be here, with you. And there would be nothing worse than that."

She smiled, stopping suddenly in her tracks, and he turned to look at her.

"I was dead as well, you know," she said. "And not only in the spiritual sense, for I was lost without you, but in the physical sense as well. A Tarkaan stabbed me in the heart in the last battle. I awoke later just as Aslan opened the Door."

"I did not know that," said Peter. They were silent for a moment, and then he spoke again.

"It…it saddens me," he began hesitatingly. "To know how you had to endure centuries of separation…while I only had to endure four. The pain I felt in that brief time cannot be compared to yours, and I feel it is unjust."

Sairah shook her head. "Aslan gave us both what we deserved," she said.

"No," he said. "You did not deserve that. But I suppose that is Aslan's decision and not ours." Taking a deep breath, he waited a moment before continuing. "And now, I have all eternity to make it up to you…so there is something that I must ask you, though I ought to have asked it ages ago."

Sairah could see the intensity in his eyes, and she remained silent, astonished at its force and the beauty of him. She had never felt so much joy in her soul as she watched the man that she loved.

"Marry me," he said softly, bringing her hand up to his mouth and tracing her knucklebones with his lips.

She was silent for a moment, merely watching the beauty of the Sun against his clear eyes, turning them into the colors of the river.

"Yes," she said, her voice so low that only he could hear it clearly. "Nothing else could bring me joy."

And they embraced, their figures seeming one in the golden sunlight, as the ripples of the river wrote stories on the water, the color of the light of Aslan.

**And that is the end of this fanfic! I really can't believe it's over!**

**Sorry for the ridiculously slow updates…I know how annoying it is when writers don't post regularly. So sorry, so sorry!**

**Thank you SO MUCH to everyone who reviewed! Your reviews always make me happy, and help me realize that someone is reading what I write, which is really wonderful since not many people where I live can read English or like the Chronicles of Narnia.**

**Special thanks to **_**formerAnnie**_** and **_**QueenDollyDaydream**_** who have reviewed for nearly EVERY SINGLE CHAPTER; something I admire and adore them for. You two have helped me keep this story going!**

**I would love each and every one of you sooo much if you could please review this chapter! I want to know what part you liked best, what you think could have been better, where I should improve, and your general thoughts on this fanfic. Anything is awesome!**

**And lastly, if you're reading this ages after this story was finished, please don't hesitate to leave a review anyway. I'll still be posting stories and checking my email account, so any review makes my day.**

**Again, thank you! Now I can go ahead and continue my other stories…**


	14. Announcement!

**Hello! **

**Hope you didn't get a nasty shock when you got a notification…I always do. And I hate it when I find that it isn't a chapter. **_**However**_**, I come to tell you that I've posted a short Peter/Sairah one-shot.**

**It's here: .net/s/6353485/1/A_look or go to my profile xD**

**Thank you! Much love and chocolate for you =)**


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